True Blood

Undoubtedly a celebration of the working class hero, True Blood is in essence, exceedingly trashy television. Barflies and scantily clad blondes. Drug addicts, prostitutes, alcoholics. Vinnie from Home and Away. The programme is ostensibly about vampires but more often focuses on the ordinary hoi-polloi, whose blood-sucking counterparts just happen to be one of a whole heap of problems that need dealing with.

Because everybody in Bon Temps, the fictional deep South town where True Blood is set, has a particularly sticky secret to hide, or a howling demon snapping at their ill-shod heels. And in addition, are usually doing a menial job for a menial wage and then more often than not, squandering that menial wage on getting off their face to forget it all.

Not that you could tell these people are troubled from looking at them. Despite appearing to be the kind of town that would struggle to keep a Blockbuster Video afloat, let alone a gym, the majority of the residents have bodies tighter than your average Brighton parking space, and not a single eye bag or bitten fingernail between them. Handy, given that everybody has to slip in and out of their teeny tiny clothes with nonchalant regularity. I told you it was trashy.

The plot itself ambles about all over the place like it’s had too many drinks and missed the last bus. It’s centred around the shrieky romance between telepathic waitress Sookie, and fang-happy yet sensitive vampire Bill. Sookie alternates between sweet-hearted innocent and stroppy madam like a wily toddler and Bill is inexplicably drawn to this tedious behaviour. Naturally, it’s all star-crossed and fraught with danger, principally because all of Bill’s mates are clearly desperate to take a bite or two out of Sookie. Be my guest fellas.

Sookie’s friends and family, despite being a bunch of degenerates themselves, predictably don’t approve of the relationship. Her brother, Jason, (Vinnie from Home and Away) regularly scrambles out of his clothes in protest. Jason has recently found himself getting all uncontrollable over Amy, a pseudo-boho, the sort who skims the cream off of ancient eastern philosophies and ignores the parts that require an actual effort. Amy is addicted to ‘V’ – vampire blood - and she’s using Jason to get her fix. Jason is too stupid to realise this. I love Jason, but he really is very, very stupid, so stupid that he has managed to put himself in the frame for a spate of murders that have been taking place in the town. He’s in the frame because he puts it about with impressive regularity and had slept with most of the victims shortly before they were killed. His grandmother is the exception to this particular rule, but honestly, it’s the kind of programme where that sort of thing could happen.

Also keen to disapprove but really, in no position to, is Sookie’s best friend Tara. Tara is a geyser, a continuously sputtering and unpredictable hot spring of pure fury. I’m sort of hoping that the murderer decides to pick on Tara next, because she will floor him and then probably drag him to the police station herself, before spitting in the sheriff’s eye and helping herself to a cop car on the way out. Tara is enjoying a stock room romance with Sam, owner of badly lit bar and grill Merlottes where Sookie works. I say enjoying, but Tara isn't really capable of that, besides which, Sam is in love with Sookie. So I think we know where this is going to end - in physical violence.

Obviously, it’s the supernatural element which separates True Blood from generic American drama, and on the whole, it meets the requirements. There are plenty of pale necks being offered up beneath the full moon, and enough gore to keep even the most desensitized viewer interested. Just about. But surprisingly, as a self-confessed uber fan of the paranormal, the gothic and the ‘having the be-jeebus scared out of me’, it’s not the vampires that have kept me watching this. It’s the sleaze and the sweat and the sheer utter underclass of it all. ‘If you want to be a hero, well just follow me…’