Colin Campbell-Austin

As a former First Class cabin crew member, trained to finesse every service detail, Safe House on ITV felt like a trainee mishandling the trolley, it’s amateur, sloppy, and completely missing the flight path of police procedure. From the start, you’re tossed into a drama where police protocol is so loosely followed it would make Heathrow security blush. Plotlines pop up like unruly turbulence, vanish mid-air, and leave dangling threads, as if the writer set a destination, filed out all the seatbelts and then forgot to push back. Sam’s fate, Mark’s motives, subplots about affairs and DNA… nothing lands. It’s like serving champagne in economy completely pointless.    There’s potential, a well‑researched crime story with nuance and emotional depth, but instead it delivers clichés, cringe‑worthy coincidences, and a whodunit with so many holes it makes a colander look waterproof.  In sum: don’t bother watching. This feels like a teenager with no life experience trying to write adult drama, no mystery, no depth, and no resolution. The only runway it cleared was into a ditch of wasted airtime. I’d reassign this flight before take‑off.

There are certain things in life you can rely on for quality, consistency, and a uniquely British sense of occasion: a well-made cup of tea, the reassuring chime of Big Ben…and The Bill. From 1984 to 2010, this ITV stalwart wasn’t just a police procedural, it was a national institution. For those of us who’ve worked in First Class service, used to observing people and reading situations with a trained eye, watching The Bill always felt like sitting in the jump seat and witnessing the best of British character, conflict, and good old-fashioned grit. The Bill wasn’t afraid to take risks with its storytelling. Yes, it started out as a down-to-earth, almost documentary-style depiction of life at fictional Sun Hill police station, but over the years it evolved, becoming bolder, darker, and sometimes gloriously over-the-top (without ever losing its heart). Who could forget the long-running undercover storylines? Officers going deep into criminal networks, blurring the lines between right and wrong. The station fires that ripped through Sun Hill, not once but twice, sending characters we loved up in smoke, quite literally. There were gang wars, bent coppers, hostage situations, serial offenders, courtroom dramas, and of course… the odd ‘mad as a hatter’ storyline. Speaking of which… step forward Cathy Bradford. Cathy took obsession and manipulation to dizzying heights (or depths, depending how you look at it). Her infatuation with colleague Brandon Kane, her falsification of evidence, and her eventual breakdown made for compulsive, sometimes jaw-dropping television. One minute she was comforting a grieving witness, the next she was framing people and faking pregnancies. The woman could give Villanelle a run for her money! What really set The Bill apart wasn’t just the plots, it was the people. The ensemble cast became as familiar as colleagues on a long-haul roster. The Bill struck the perfect balance between serious social issues and good old-fashioned entertainment. Racism, sexism, mental health, homophobia, domestic violence, corruption within the ranks, you name it, Sun Hill tackled it. But it also gave us cliffhangers, office gossip, love affairs, and the kind of watercooler moments that kept the nation talking the next morning (or in my case, kept crew rooms buzzing between sectors). It’s hard to overstate how good the writing and acting were at their peak. Unlike American cop shows full of glitz and gunfire, The Bill gave us flat roofs, rain-soaked estates, and coppers standing around drinking tea from chipped mugs while solving serious crime. It was raw, real, and recognisably British. Final Verdict: First Class Television (Without the Lay Flat Beds) If you’ve never watched The Bill, do yourself a favour and track it down. It’s British telly at its most grounded and gripping, with characters you’ll genuinely care about. Now… who fancies a pint at the pub after shift?

More Plot Holes Than a Slice of Swiss Cheese at 38,000 Feet As someone who’s spent years working in First Class, where attention to detail and precision are everything (whether it’s serving afternoon tea at 35,000 feet or spotting a passenger’s needs before they even ask), I like to think I have a finely tuned radar for when things just don’t add up. Sadly, Missing You on Netflix triggered more alarms than a cabin smoke detector mid-flight. The premise starts with promise: people mysteriously disappearing after using a dating app. Intriguing enough, like the first glimmer of sunrise over the Atlantic. But fasten your seatbelt… turbulence ahead. Our leading lady is a police detective, at least that’s what the badge suggests. Unfortunately, her detective skills seem to have been left on standby. Basic investigative instincts? Non-existent. Situational awareness? About as sharp as a butter knife from economy. Watching her attempt to “solve” this case is like watching someone search for a missing bag while standing in front of it. As for the plot… Well, let’s just say it takes a sharp nosedive around episode three and never really recovers. The whole concept that dozens of people could vanish through one dating app while having their bank accounts drained and nobody in law enforcement or the media seems to notice is frankly as believable as finding a fully catered First Class meal in row 52G. The scriptwriters clearly didn’t spend much time with anyone who’s actually worked in police investigations (or even watched a decent crime doc). There’s a distinct whiff of “this’ll do” about the whole thing. Characters make decisions that defy all common sense, red herrings are thrown about with the subtlety of an overzealous trolley service, and by the final episodes, the twists are so painfully obvious I was calling them out long before they arrived. Predictable? Absolutely. Enjoyable? Only if you like shouting “Oh, come on!” at your TV. That said, the first episode is oddly engaging. Like when a passenger orders a Bloody Mary and you think, “Ooh, this is going to be fun,” before they ask for six more miniatures and start telling you their life story. In summary: Missing You starts with potential but rapidly turns into a far-fetched, poorly researched soap opera with a detective who couldn’t find a missing teacup, let alone a missing person. Watch it if you’re in the mood for something silly, but don’t expect anything remotely First Class. This one’s strictly back row, middle seat, next to the loo.

Scott & Bailey is British television at its best, sharp, intelligent, and full of that no-nonsense northern charm that makes it endlessly rewatchable. If Line of Duty is the high-stakes, adrenaline fueled long-haul, then Scott & Bailey is the equally compelling but slightly more relatable premium cabin experience—where the turbulence comes from office politics, personal drama, and the constant struggle to balance work and life. Lesley Sharp and Suranne Jones are phenomenal as Janet Scott and Rachel Bailey, two detectives with sharp minds, quick tongues, and personal lives that are often more complicated than their cases. Amelia Bullmore not only delivers as the brilliant but fearsome DCI Gill Murray, but she also had a hand in writing several episodes, giving the show an authenticity and wit that sets it apart. And Sally Lindsay, playing Rachel’s sister, brings warmth and realism to the family tensions simmering beneath the surface. What makes Scott & Bailey so brilliant is its balance, it’s got all the grit and intensity you want from a police procedural, but it also has heart, humour, and a refreshing focus on female friendship. The banter is razor-sharp, the cases gripping, and the characters feel real , flawed, human, and deeply likeable. I’ve watched every series multiple times, and it never gets old. It’s comfort viewing, but not in a cosy way, it’s smart, strong, and just a little bit fierce. If you haven’t boarded this particular flight yet, I highly recommend it.

First Class British Comedy More Please! BBC’s The Other One is a five-star, first-class, champagne and canapés kind of comedy, the sort that makes you want to press the call button and demand another round. Witty, brilliantly crafted, and packed with laugh-out-loud moments, it’s the kind of show that reminds you why British comedy is world class. The premise is delightfully bonkers. Two half-sisters, both named Catherine Walcott, discover each other’s existence after their dad’s sudden demise. Cue chaos, family feuds, and a comedy cocktail of mismatched personalities. Lauren Socha (Misfits) is absolutely hysterical as Cat, the loud, lovable wildcard, while Ellie White (The Windsors) plays Cathy, the highly strung, straight-laced sibling who’s permanently on the verge of a meltdown. Their dynamic is comedy gold, one part disaster, one part heartwarming sisterhood. Siobhan Finneran (Benidorm, Happy Valley) as Marilyn brings warmth and sharp comedic timing, while Rebecca Front (The Thick of It) shines as Tess, the brilliantly snobby, self-absorbed widow. Michele Austin (The Bill) as no-nonsense Angela, Caroline Quentin as the larger-than-life Auntie Dawn, and Shobu Kapoor as the ever-dignified Mishti Tandell round out a cast that delivers a masterclass in comedic performance. The attention to detail in the writing is impeccable. Every scene is packed with quick-fire wit, clever callbacks, and moments that are as touching as they are hilarious. It’s got heart, it’s got sass, and it never outstays its welcome. BBC, this show deserves a full upgrade. Bump it up to another series immediately! The Other One is proof that British comedy is still flying high. Five stars, no turbulence, and a guaranteed laugh-a-minute journey. More episodes please. Cabin crew and comedy lovers are ready for takeoff! ✈️

As an ex-cabin crew member, I couldn’t resist tuning in to Red Eye on ITV—a thriller set on a long-haul flight? Right up my aisle! With Lesley Sharp and Jing Lusi leading the cast (both brilliant in the final season of Scott & Bailey), I knew I was in for a gripping ride. And it certainly delivered on drama, tension, and some nail-biting moments. The storyline kept me hooked: a high-stakes extradition, a prisoner who may or may not be guilty, and a web of deception playing out at 38,000 feet. Sharp was fantastic as the no-nonsense officer, while Lusi brought intelligence and depth to her role. Their performances gave the show real weight, even when the plot started to veer into turbulence. But—oh dear—the aviation details. The gaping holes in airline procedures were big enough to taxi an A380 through. From the way the flight was operated to how the prisoner was handled, it was clear that no one had consulted actual airline professionals. At times, it was unintentionally laughable, and at others, it could have genuinely unsettled nervous flyers. A little realism would have elevated Red Eye from entertaining to outstanding. Still, if you can suspend disbelief (and if you’re not ex-cabin crew shouting, “That would NEVER happen!” at the screen), it’s a slick and suspenseful drama. But next time, ITV, maybe give a pilot—or even a humble ex-flight attendant—a call? We promise we don’t bite… unless the crew food is particularly bad!

Amandaland promised a hilarious spin-off from Motherland, and while it delivers plenty of laughs, it doesn’t quite reach the dizzying heights of the original. Amanda was a fantastic character in Motherland, all razor-sharp put-downs and immaculate passive aggression, but without the chaotic school-run energy of Julia, Liz, Meg, and Kevin to bounce off, she doesn’t land quite as strongly. Joanna Lumley is, as ever, absolute comedy royalty. The two together are a joy to watch, their scenes crackling with that clipped, upper-crust absurdity that Lumley does so well. There’s definitely a sense that the script borrows from the later episodes of Absolutely Fabulous. Some of the dialogue wouldn’t feel out of place coming from Patsy or Saffy—but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The humour is still sharp, but it sometimes feels like it’s missing the grounded, relatable chaos that made Motherland so brilliant. Amanda works best when she’s in contrast to the harried, slightly unhinged world around her, and in Amandaland, she’s the one creating the chaos rather than reacting to it. It’s still a thoroughly enjoyable watch, with plenty of quotable lines and a stellar cast. But much like a PTA fundraiser without a fight over the raffle, something is missing. A fun, stylish comedy, but I can’t help wishing she had the gang back together.