As we begin the third and final series of ‘Mad Dogs’, it shows no signs of getting any less daft. And that’s exactly how we like it. We rejoin the lads locked down in a prison in the middle of a desert with only a fighty Jaime Winstone for company. What are they doing there? They have no idea and neither have we. So is ‘Mad Dogs’ turning into a prison drama? Not really – although it’s worth reflecting on what an aesthetic gift the orange Guantanamo boiler suit has been to TV drama.
If anything, the plotting gets even more ludicrous from here. Could our unlucky quartet have upset the CIA? Has a fly saved Baxter’s life? And what keeps ‘Mad Dogs’ so fiendishly entertaining? It’s a combination of the natural chemistry of Messrs Simm, Glenister, Beesley and Warren and the knowledge that, while the creators could take this anywhere, they will never, on pain of death, opt for the subtle, the nuanced or the understated. Great fun.
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