Having been promoted to senior ministerial office responsible for law and order, Gerald Overton (masterfully played by Roy Marsden) is feeling pretty chipper. There is a strong hint he is something of a ladies man, as he arrives outside his house, he exchanges a meaningful, suggestive glance with a young, attractive television journalist, played by Amanda Goodman.
Upon greeting his wife, we discover amongst the congratulatory telegrams there are poison pen letters, understandably, his wife is nervous about his new, prominent position.
Playing with his young son at bedtime before going alone to a posh dinner party, something happens that provides the novel twist at the end, which I, for one, didn't see coming.
He walks across the park to the dinner party in his dinner suit (tuxedo, to Americans) which with its' poor lighting (the park, not the suit) and elements of menace, with trees rustling and strange joggers running past, is perhaps, somewhat risky, he nevertheless, makes it to the dinner.
The beautiful candles and table settings befit a high-flying minister, one vampish guest, makes it clear he is guaranteed more than her vote. It's, perhaps, a little cliched for a handkerchief drop, picked up by Overton, to convey this and BCU's (Big Close Ups) of their eyes, to confirm it.
Mary Tregallas (Kate Harper) offers him a lift and stops the car with a view to establishing an intimate but commitment-free relationship, which he rather bravely rejects, leaving her car and walking back across the park.
Such morality was missing from the Tory Government of the time, with more indiscreet bed-hopping than in the average up-market brothel.
The critical scene - Overton bumping into a drunk who appears to mug him and steal his wallet, followed by the brave law and order minister chasing him, apparently recovering the wallet and giving him a damned good thrashing, leads to the subsequent denouement back at his house - when police arrive and all is not what it originally seemed.
This is a well-directed episode (by Peter Hammond) entirely filmed and with good, perceptive morals: don't judge a book by its cover, don't tempt fate. I might also add, snogging a Tory minister is not a great idea - this was the era of 'kiss and tell', rather different from William Tell, not something that would ever be turned into an overture, other than one of sleaze.
A rather good half hours' or so's viewing, which has aged well.
Upon greeting his wife, we discover amongst the congratulatory telegrams there are poison pen letters, understandably, his wife is nervous about his new, prominent position.
Playing with his young son at bedtime before going alone to a posh dinner party, something happens that provides the novel twist at the end, which I, for one, didn't see coming.
He walks across the park to the dinner party in his dinner suit (tuxedo, to Americans) which with its' poor lighting (the park, not the suit) and elements of menace, with trees rustling and strange joggers running past, is perhaps, somewhat risky, he nevertheless, makes it to the dinner.
The beautiful candles and table settings befit a high-flying minister, one vampish guest, makes it clear he is guaranteed more than her vote. It's, perhaps, a little cliched for a handkerchief drop, picked up by Overton, to convey this and BCU's (Big Close Ups) of their eyes, to confirm it.
Mary Tregallas (Kate Harper) offers him a lift and stops the car with a view to establishing an intimate but commitment-free relationship, which he rather bravely rejects, leaving her car and walking back across the park.
Such morality was missing from the Tory Government of the time, with more indiscreet bed-hopping than in the average up-market brothel.
The critical scene - Overton bumping into a drunk who appears to mug him and steal his wallet, followed by the brave law and order minister chasing him, apparently recovering the wallet and giving him a damned good thrashing, leads to the subsequent denouement back at his house - when police arrive and all is not what it originally seemed.
This is a well-directed episode (by Peter Hammond) entirely filmed and with good, perceptive morals: don't judge a book by its cover, don't tempt fate. I might also add, snogging a Tory minister is not a great idea - this was the era of 'kiss and tell', rather different from William Tell, not something that would ever be turned into an overture, other than one of sleaze.
A rather good half hours' or so's viewing, which has aged well.