At what point while watching Succession (Sky Atlantic/Now, Monday) did reality bite? There we were, expecting to have yucks aplenty at Connor’s wedding when a rug the size of Canada was pulled from under us.

He was dead most likely when Tom got through to Roman, Shiv having twice rejected her estranged husband’s calls. More guilt to bear. Slithering Tom turned out to be the hero of the hour, holding the phone to the old man’s ear so his children could have the illusion they had said goodbye. The terrible cellphone connection, dropping in and out, summed up the Roy family dynamics better than any words.

This was great television, and a response to those who say Succession can do polished sneers but not genuine emotion. Most viewers fixated on the fact Logan had gone in episode three, as if it was the law that death had to wait till a finale. Hat tip to all for managing to keep the secret: take note, leaky western security services.

Bank Holiday adaptations of Agatha Christie novels should be ranked according to a “spiffing” index, one being the lowest.

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Why Didn't They Ask Evans? (STV/STV Player, Sunday-Tuesday), being written, directed and starring Hugh Laurie, had a head start on the competition. The man who played the definitive Bertie Wooster on TV is as happy in this period as the Empress of Blandings in muck.

Being Laurie, he could call on top-drawer mates including Emma Thompson and Jim Broadbent to put in appearances, and attract a rising star in Will Poulter as young Bobby Jones, home from the Navy to Blighty and not sure what to do with his life.

Bobby’s mind was taken off his job search when he spied a body at the bottom of the cliffs. With his last breath, the unfortunate soul managed to rasp the question in the title. But who was the stranger, who was Evans, and whodunnit?

Alas for the drama’s spiffing index score, all was revealed at a pace that was only marginally slower than a dreich Easter Monday. Three nights it took for every last detail to unfold. By the time Laurie put in an appearance as a psychiatrist I was too exhausted to care if he was a good ‘un or a bad. One of Christie’s lesser-known works for a reason, I suspect.Stacey Dooley: Ready for War? (BBC3, Wednesday) followed a group of young Ukrainians on an intensive training course with the British Army. Instructors had just five weeks to improve the survival chances of the assembled welders, florists and jewellers when they got to the front line.

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It was a gruelling process, emotionally as much as physically. It fell to Dooley to get this across, which she did in her usual no frills but highly effective way. She built a bond with the trainees that rang true and the fellow feeling found its way to viewers, making the closing captions, when we found out what happened next, a heart-in-the-mouth experience. All were well.

Now I’m no TV expert as you know, but even I could sense something familiar about Wales’s Home of the Year (BBC2, Wednesday). Although it introduced itself as a “brand new property series” the resemblance to Scotland’s Home of the Year was uncanny.

Same music, same intro, same heart denoting a favourite spot, same cry of “Ooooooh!” when a lady judge sat on a chair that swung or swivelled unexpectedly.

The judges were same-ish, with Owain Wyn Evans, “Wales’ favourite drumming weatherman” joined by interior designer Mandy Watkins, and architectural designer Glen Thomas.

Umbrage would have been taken at this shameless lift, but then I remembered that Scotland’s Home of the Year is based on a format created and owned by a Danish production company. It’s yer globalisation of telly, innit? There are no hard borders in a world of soft furnishings. Next stop England’s Home of the Year, France’s, Spain’s, wherever.

And when we get bored with having a nosey around other people’s homes - as if - the casts and crews could engage in combat, like the rival news teams in Anchorman.

Also new this week was Designing the Hebrides (BBC Scotland, Monday/BBC2, Wednesday). In another instance of TV eating itself, it was presented by Banjo Beale, who in turn was the winner of last year’s Interior Design Masters with Alan Carr.

For his first assignment, Aussie-born local Beale took on a makeover of the fish shop in Tobermory, the town famous for its colourful main street. To make the shop stand out Banjo opted to do a Rolling Stones and paint it black. Yup.

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The attempts to inject drama - would Sally and her parents like the colour? - were overdone, and there was no word on whether the redesign had boosted takings, which was supposed to be the point (that and making half an hour of relatively cheap telly). But Banjo was a pleasant bloke and his as yet unnamed canine sidekick adds to the appeal.