Sergeant Cork was the creation of the prolific Lord Ted Willis (best known for the considerably longer running but arguably far less interesting Dixon of Dock Green). In all there were a staggering 66 episodes made in this TV-series aired between 1963-68 – now available in one mega box set!

Sergeant Cork (John Barrie paints a fine portrait in this role) is a member of the then newly formed C.I.D. – plain-clothes detectives tasked with maintaining law and order in the growing and often dangerous metropolis that was Victorian London. Cork is a forward-thinking and decent fellow – a humanitarian with a penchant fro sweets and the odd tipple while on duty. As a man with a keen interest in Forensics he doesn’t shy away from applying unorthodox methods to solve crimes… and if it means being at loggerheads with his superiors. He is well supported by D.C. Marriott (William Gaunt), an able young man with an eye for the ladies (and lucky for him, having an eye for the ladies is more often than not part of the job). Both our protagonists could be described as pretty much atypical 'Coppers'. Cork sometimes regrets resorting to slightly underhand methods in order to get the required result (invariably a confession), furthermore it is fair to describe him as somewhat moody with the occasional bad temper… and it’s office ‘char-man’ Chalky White (Freddy Fowler) who usually is at the receiving end of Cork’s mood swings. Later on in the series (six altogether) we are introduced to Superintendent Rodway (Charles Morgan) who joins our duo as the third member. As the series progresses and it is hinted that slowly but surely Cork gets too old for the job, more powers are bestowed to D.C. Marriott (who starts out as a humble copper before climbing up the career ladder. Indeed, in the last two ever episodes William Gaunt’s name appears together with John Barrie’s name in the opening credits.

The scripts are greatly varied and despite the 1960's near abysmal technical work (filmed on video and sometimes even the opening credits look wonky!) plus the complete and utter lack of even a single solitary exterior (the same studio sets appear to have been modified from episode to episode while at least the interiors look fit for purpose), the individual cases are always very engaging. A good few of the storylines are every bit as significant now as they were in the 1890's - a sad indictment of our society.

There are many outstanding episodes to choose from though viewers will of course have their own favourites. In THE CASE OF THE GIRL UPSTAIRS a young girl locked in a room upstairs is subjected to the cruelty of her stepmother and a doctor interested in sadistic experiments. A sleazy pub by the London docks and a bunch of crooks provide the setting in THE CASE OF THE TWO DROWNED MEN while THE CASE OF THE SLITHY TOVE features a crime whose origin lies in the past. THE CASE OF THE SLEEPING COACHMAN presents Cork and Marriott with the hurdles of class divide, hampering the investigation. We even have a Jack the Ripper-like scenario in THE CASE OF THE KILLER’S MARK, a truly creepy affair in which a self-styled religious loony decides to rid London of its ‘Ladies of the night’… this one comes complete with expressionistic shadows, pea-soupers and an appropriate opening in a fog-shrouded barn in which not only the remains of an unfortunate young woman are discovered but a strangled cat dangles from a hook next to the corpse. Not even Cork and his assistants can be bothered to take the poor dead animal down, clearly animal welfare was in its infancy in Victorian London!

Other episodes, although written and filmed with the best of intentions no doubt, come across as dated if not politically incorrect altogether. For example THE CASE OF THE DUTIFUL MURDERER is set in London’s then Chinatown (that would have been Limehouse), with the main Chinese actors all played by English thespians in (what these days must look simply embarrassing) dodgy Oriental make-up. Oh dear. The final case (THE CASE OF THE STROLLING PLAYERS) is – as the title suggests – acted out on stage and it’s down to Cork and Marriott to find out who shot an actress with a real bullet during a performance when it should have been blanks. Plenty of reciting from famous plays (most notable Shakespeare) and the episode – and indeed the entire series of Sergeant Cork - ends in suitable manner with Prosperos famous monologue from Shakespeare’s The Tempest: “Our revels now are ended'. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air…

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