And also, what the hell would she wear in sunny California? You can't imagine that there are too many occasions on which a fair isle jumper would be called for. (It is, as an aside, going to get really annoying, not to mention scratchy, if she wears that bloody jumper the whole time.
It's the equivalent of putting black-framed specs on a librarian to disguise her sexiness, and having her whip 'em off to reveal that she was sexy all along. You can't have a telly cop unless she's sexy, so let's just get it over with.)
Other than that, so far so good, in an appropriately chilly sort of way, given the subject matter. (Brr, pass me my fair isle jumper, I said, while I was watching the first episode. But damn it, I must have left it in Greymouth in 1976.)
It's not just Sarah who isn't much good at articulating, and that's a good thing. People in awful situations are not articulate. They howl and rage and have no words.
The Killing captures this wordlessness. And it's going to get messy enough without cluttering the thing up with needless dialogue. There's something going on with the mayoral candidate (and not just the hanky panky with his campaign manager - who is sexy even without a fair isle jumper.) I'll be watching.
I won't, however, be watching Dancing with the Stars US, which for some inexplicable reason is on TV One on Sunday nights at 8.30pm.
Not even to see Kourtney Kardashian's repellent partner, Scott Disick - a man whose hankering to be famous makes the Kardashians look like shrinking violets - make an arse of himself (for that you watch The Kardashians.)
Cher's daughter-now-son, Chaz Bono, is also a contestant, as is somebody called Carson Kressley, who was briefly famous on a stupid programme called Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. This is Desperate Stuff, with no Stars. Why?
-TimeOut