I’ve been just a tiny bit in love with David Suchet’s Hercule Poirot since some point in the late 80s when I heard him tell someone that he wasn’t a “bloody little frog” he was a “bloody little Belgian”
He exudes a particular kind of calm wit, and fastidious elegance that appeals to me greatly. In a 3 piece suit and over coat, complete with watch chain, cane, hat and gloves, all perfectly accessorised with that moustache.
Also, evidence, if any were needed, that being perfectly turned out is no precursor to intelligence. He unfailingly outwits even the most organised and elaborate criminals before revealing their devious machinations in his heavily accented English without a hint of a tremor in his voice.
If I thought hard enough I can probably trace my younger selfs obsession with croissants for breakfast back to having decided they must be a hugely elegant choice if Poirot ate them (His waistline probably partly due to these yummy breakfast pastries was a connection I failed to make)
If anyone fancies treating me to a box set
Or maybe I should make it a duvet week as there are 11 series to get through….