John Nettles is looking older. It’s the first thing you notice in the second season of Midsomer Murders, especially by the time you hit "Blue Herrings." His face has that lived-in, weary detective quality that defined the early era of the show before it became a bit too glossy and polished. This episode, originally airing in early 2000, isn’t just another body count in the countryside. It’s weirdly personal. It feels different. While most episodes of this long-running British staple rely on bizarre murder weapons—think giant wheels of cheese or catapulted wine bottles—this one leans into the quiet, creeping dread of old age and the fragility of memory. It’s arguably the most "human" the show ever got.
The Lawnside Mystery: Beyond the Usual Tropes
Most people remember Midsomer Murders for the scenery. The rolling hills of Buckinghamshire. The thatched cottages. The inevitable discovery of a corpse in a rose garden. But "Blue Herrings" flips the script by trapping the action inside Lawnside, a convalescent home. Barnaby isn't even supposed to be working. He’s on a week's leave to help his aunt, Alice Bly, settle in. This is peak Midsomer. You’ve got a detective who can't help but see shadows where everyone else sees natural causes.
Alice Bly, played by the late, great Phyllis Calvert, is the heartbeat of the story. She’s convinced something is wrong because people are dying. "People die in nursing homes, Alice," is the logical response, right? But the timing is off. A resident dies, a certain photo goes missing, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts from clinical boredom to genuine menace.
The title itself is a cheeky nod to the audience. In mystery writing, a "red herring" is a false clue. By calling it "Blue Herrings," the writers are basically winking at you. They’re saying, "We know you think you know who did it, but you’re probably looking at the wrong shade of distraction."
Why Lawnside Feels So Claustrophobic
Unlike the expansive village greens of "The Killings at Badger's Drift," Lawnside feels tight. The hallways are narrow. The rooms are filled with the clutter of lives being condensed into single spaces. Director Peter Smith uses these tight frames to emphasize that for the residents, this is the end of the line. There’s a specific kind of British gloom here that isn't present in the later, sunnier seasons with Neil Dudgeon.
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The cast is a "who’s who" of veteran British character actors. You’ve got Nigel Davenport as William Smithers and Mary Wimbush as Olive Beauvoisin. These aren't just names on a call sheet; they bring a gravitas to the roles that makes the threat feel more grounded. When Smithers talks about his past, you feel the weight of a century. This isn't just a puzzle for Barnaby to solve; it's a look at what happens when the world decides you’re no longer relevant.
The Clues That Aren't Actually Clues
Let's talk about the plot mechanics. Barnaby is technically off-duty, which means Troy—good old, politically incorrect Gavin Troy—is left to handle things back at the station. This creates a fun dynamic. Barnaby is essentially acting as a rogue agent, snooping around in a cardigan rather than a suit.
- The missing photograph of a woman named Mary.
- The sudden death of Mrs. Cook.
- The mystery of the blue biscuits (yes, really).
- The varying wills and legacies of the residents.
Is it a murder if the person was going to die anyway? That’s the ethical gray area the episode dances around. The medical profession in Midsomer is usually portrayed as either incompetent or sinister, and Lawnside’s staff fits the bill perfectly. Dr. Grahame Wyatt is dismissive. The nurses are overworked. It’s a breeding ground for a "mercy killer" or something much more spiteful.
The brilliance of the writing here lies in how it handles the "blue" elements. It’s not just the herrings. It’s the mood. It’s the physical objects. It’s the way the color blue keeps appearing in the periphery of the frame, acting as a visual anchor for the viewer's suspicion.
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Sorting Fact From Fiction in the Midsomer Universe
Fans often get confused about where this episode sits in the timeline. It’s Season 3, Episode 2 (or Episode 11 overall if you’re counting by the original broadcast order). This was the era where the show was still figuring out how dark it wanted to be.
Honestly, the chemistry between John Nettles and Daniel Casey (Troy) was never better than in this season. Troy is still a bit of a disaster—his driving is terrible, his social skills are worse—but he’s the perfect foil for Barnaby’s refined intuition. In "Blue Herrings," we see Barnaby’s vulnerability. He loves his Aunt Alice. He’s worried about her. This isn't just a case; it's a family matter.
Interestingly, the episode is based on a story by Caroline Graham, the creator of the Inspector Barnaby character. This is why the plotting feels tighter than the "original" teleplays that came later in the series. Graham’s strength was always in the psychology of her villains. They weren't just "evil"; they were driven by very specific, very petty grievances that had festered for decades. In Lawnside, grievances have a lot of time to fester.
The Realism of the "Quiet" Murder
We’ve become used to "Blue Herrings" being a bit of a sleeper hit among hardcore fans. It doesn’t have the flashy gore of "Hidden Depths," where someone is smothered in truffles and eaten by wild boar. Instead, it uses the quietness of the setting to its advantage.
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A pillow. A syringe. A missed dose of medication. These are the tools of the trade here. It reflects a very real fear of the elderly: the loss of agency. When you can't trust the people who feed you and bathe you, where do you turn? You turn to your nephew, who just happens to be the best detective in the county.
Watching It Today: What You Might Have Missed
If you’re re-watching this on a streaming service like Acorn TV or BritBox, pay attention to the subplots. The relationship between the residents isn't just background noise. The petty jealousies over who gets the best seat in the lounge or who is favored by the staff are actually essential to understanding the motive.
The ending is one of the more bittersweet in the series. It’s not a moment of high-fives and justice. It’s a moment of reflection. Barnaby realizes that while he can solve the crime, he can't stop the clock. Alice stays at Lawnside, but the world has changed for her.
Actionable Takeaways for Mystery Buffs
If you’re looking to get the most out of this specific Midsomer classic, or if you're writing your own cozy mystery, take note of these elements:
- Contextualize the "Herring": Don’t just throw in a random false clue. Make the false clue something that would naturally exist in that environment. In a nursing home, a missing photo is a tragedy; in a detective story, it's a motive.
- Use the Setting as a Character: Lawnside isn't just a building. Its smells, its lighting, and its restrictive routine dictate how the characters behave.
- Humanize the Detective: Barnaby is at his best when he has skin in the game. When his family is involved, his "polite" veneer cracks just enough to show the man underneath.
- Watch the Background: Midsomer is famous for its "background acting." The extras in this episode are often doing things that hint at the broader social structure of the home.
"Blue Herrings" remains a standout because it dares to be slow. It dares to be about the unglamorous reality of aging, tucked away behind the pretty facades of a fictional England. It reminds us that even in a place where death is expected, murder is still a profound disruption of the natural order.
Next time you're scrolling through the endless list of Midsomer Murders episodes, skip the ones with the ridiculous death traps for a night. Go back to Season 3. Watch Barnaby in his cardigan, drinking tea with Aunt Alice, and realize that the most terrifying secrets aren't buried in the woods—they're often sitting right across from you at the dinner table.