If the writers of Bonekickers are to be believed, the whole of England sits atop a network of caves stuffed to the stalactites with ancient relics. Artifacts like belt buckles are pulled from the earth like a lucky dip at a church fete, and before long, Ben and Gillian (archaeology’s Mulder and Scully) have uncovered evidence of yet another ancient conspiracy; it’s discovered this week that Queen Boudica had a clandestine affair with a resourceful Roman called Marcus Quintanus, who also, it transpires, invented the hand grenade and used them to destroy Rome.
Even more bizarre is Gillian’s apparent jinx – everything she finds seems to ignite the second she touches it, and priceless artifacts are destroyed without protest or comment. When Boudica’s corpse is discovered (apparently preserved in strawberry jam), Gillian’s initial elation at her historical find quickly gives way to indifference when it catches fire. It’s sort of like archaeology with Attention Deficit Disorder.
Bonekickers‘ cheesy script is also beginning to form its own unique kind of poetry. You’ve got to admire a show that can throw out lines such as ‘Love is at a forty degree angle and cannot be straightened,’ or ‘Dolly gives good strontium. Watch and learn,’ or ‘Hell’s tits!’
Despite its initial trashy appeal, the series’ joke is already beginning to wear thin; characters may utter, with wide-eyed sincerity, such gems as ‘humans don’t fit into boxes,’ but Bonekickers is starting to feel like a show that should be consigned to history.
