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He wears a sweater vest, he wears a bulletproof vest, he wears silk vest. (Image: Tina Tiller)
He wears a sweater vest, he wears a bulletproof vest, he wears silk vest. (Image: Tina Tiller)

Pop CultureJune 4, 2021

Steve Arnott’s greatest waistcoats in Line of Duty – ranked

He wears a sweater vest, he wears a bulletproof vest, he wears silk vest. (Image: Tina Tiller)
He wears a sweater vest, he wears a bulletproof vest, he wears silk vest. (Image: Tina Tiller)

Line of Duty is known for its tense drama and incredible cliffhangers, but we’ve been overlooking something equally incredible: DS Arnott’s waistcoats. 

It’s Britain’s most watched drama of the 21st century, but until recently, gripping crime thriller Line of Duty has been a quiet burner in New Zealand. The official explanation is that many people hadn’t heard of it until season six screened on TVNZ1 (the first five seasons are on Netflix), but I don’t buy it. The truth is out there, and it speaks volumes about this nation’s quiet, unspoken prejudice against vests.

Created and written by Jed Mecurio (Bodyguard), Line of Duty follows three detectives working in anti-corruption unit AC-12 as they investigate their fellow police officers. With a killer guest cast including Keely Hawes, Thandiwe Newton, Lennie James and Stephen Graham, and storylines that stretch over six seasons, sometimes it’s tricky to keep up. I’ve found it’s easier not to sweat the big stuff, like the plot, and concentrate on the important things, like Steve Arnott’s impressive collection of waistcoats.

Steve and his waistcoats.

Detective Sergeant Steve Arnott (Martin Compston) is the dullest man on television, but his waistcoats are another story. They might look the same to the untrained eye, but these clothes say more about Steve Arnott than his blank stare or depressing work ethic ever could. While he is an ironing board of a man, his waistcoats are a window into his soul. They tell us stories Steve could never find words for, like “sensible” and “lonely” and “itchy”. Most of all, they say “Steve”.

In fact, Steve Arnott isn’t fully dressed without a waistcoat. I refuse to look him directly in the eye if he has the audacity to turn up to AC-12 in a business shirt, or heaven forbid, a jersey. What is this, the weekend? No, Steve Arnott. This will not do.

That time when Ted Hastings (Adrian Dunbar) and Kate Fleming (Vicky McClure) didn’t like Steve’s waistcoat either.

There is no Line of Duty without Steve’s vests. They’re the ying to each other’s yang, a happy infinity circle of crime and fashion, and sometimes, crimes against fashion. Legally, Steve’s waistcoats have the right to be investigated by a writer at least one rank senior, but mother of God, I don’t care. I’ve interrogated the evidence, I’ve played the high pitched screech at the beginning of the interview and I’m here for one thing and one thing only: to find out which Steve Arnott vest is best.

10) Intriguing Steve

This grey sweater vest says: I am a serious detective investigating a crime, but also, I am a high school student visiting my local supermarket to compare the prices of fruit. Confused? That’s just how Steve likes it.

9) Party Steve

The waistcoat is the original mullet – business at the front, party at the back – and nothing represents Steve’s inner party animal better than an unexpected dragonfly print on some charming aquamarine silk. Dragonflies symbolise transformation and self-realisation, and by season six, Steve has facial hair. Coincidence? More like fate.

8) Naive Steve

Steve wore this bobbly wonder on his first day at AC-12, his first mistake in a long line of stuff ups and disappointments. It was a soft security blanket in a world that didn’t make sense, but would it inject fear into bent coppers? Negative.

7) Risky Steve

Don’t let this stylish formality fool you, because Steve lives a life of incredible danger and unlikely romance. Whenever Steve wears dark colours, something terrible is about to happen. When he’s wearing a three piece suit, it’s even worse. It’s the perfect storm. Run, Steve. Run for your life.

6) Pensive Steve

It’s no accident that the hairier Steve gets, the more refined his waistcoats become. Too much fuzz on the fuzz is never a good thing, and Steve needs clothes that will give him the clarity to think without scratching. Sometimes he needs to think really hard.

5) Versatile Steve

See also: Party Steve. This snappy number takes Steve from day to night, from arresting criminals to shagging witnesses in one easy step. It’s a silky envelope of irresistibility that never lets him down, which means it never lets us down either.

4) Steve from Accounts

This knitted vest says: trust me, I’m 100% wool. Tell me your secrets and I will protect you in the same way that these natural fibres insulate my midriff. Press your face into me and I will reward you with the smell of innocence and lanolin. I am Snuggly Steve. Trust me. Love me. Wash me and lay me flat in the shade.

3) Out of control Steve

Full disclosure, DCI Hastings: I haven’t watched all of season six, so I investigated Steve’s vests on mute to avoid being spoiled. Did I compromise the entire operation? Definitely. I’ve no idea what terrible things led Steve to wear a fully unbuttoned waistcoat, but I never anticipated such a slippery descent into chaos. Who knew a button ripped from its hole could signify so much? Oh, Steve. I hope you’re OK.

2) Smiley Steve

Lock down the building, we’ve found Steve’s favourite waistcoat. Notable for its collar and luxurious satin back, Steve wears this almost every day in season four. It may be a jacket without arms – a fraudcoat, if you will – but the collar is Steve’s best friend. When he wears it, something magical happens.

Steve, smiling.

1) Double down Steve

It’s official: the police vest is Steve’s best vest in Line of Duty. It’s bulletproof and easy to wipe down, but most importantly, it lets Steve put a vest over a vest. It lets him double vest. He is hedging his vest bets. Steve Arnott is a Russian doll made entirely of waistcoats, and if you ever get close enough to start peeling back his layers, all you will find is more waistcoats, each one smaller and finer than the one before. These are the facts; this case is now closed.

Keep going!
From left to right: Marcia Hope, Luke Bird, Pere Wihongi and Bella Kalolo, the host and judges of Lucky Dip and Five Minutes of Fame respectively. (Image: Tina Tiller)
From left to right: Marcia Hope, Luke Bird, Pere Wihongi and Bella Kalolo, the host and judges of Lucky Dip and Five Minutes of Fame respectively. (Image: Tina Tiller)

Pop CultureJune 3, 2021

Ka nui te harikoa: Two delightful Māori TV shows more people should watch

From left to right: Marcia Hope, Luke Bird, Pere Wihongi and Bella Kalolo, the host and judges of Lucky Dip and Five Minutes of Fame respectively. (Image: Tina Tiller)
From left to right: Marcia Hope, Luke Bird, Pere Wihongi and Bella Kalolo, the host and judges of Lucky Dip and Five Minutes of Fame respectively. (Image: Tina Tiller)

Want a late-week injection of joy? Look no further than Lucky Dip and Five Minutes of Fame, two fun Māori TV shows that deserve a wider audience.

We could all stand to chill out a little bit. We’re coming out of a pandemic; we all work too much and don’t get enough rest. TV isn’t the escape it used to be; we’re either watching Kate Winslet furiously vape her way through a murder investigation or waiting for Shortland Street’s Nurse Carla to crack, as she inevitably will. Even escapist reality TV is overly stressful at this point – I’m too invested in the careers of the younglings on Popstars, too stressed out at people being mean to each other on Drag Race, and too worried that everybody is laughing at the contestants on The Apprentice. I just want some low-stakes, well made content to chill out with.

I don’t have to look far, because Māori TV has provided me with two of the most delightful series I’ve seen this year. The first, Lucky Dip, is a game show that takes the legacy of Sale of the Century and It’s in the Bag and runs down a side street with it. The second is Five Minutes of Fame, a comparatively relaxed take on the familiar singing competition genre. They’re both the ultimate comfort watches, the television equivalent of settling into a soft couch with a warm cup of tea.

Don’t trust this picture: Lucky Dip is *WILDER* than this.

Lucky Dip is a show so ludicrous that it feels like somebody came up with it in the writers room on 30 Rock. It’s also as infectious as a new Covid variant, and as delightful as that text message telling you you’ve tested negative.

The series is hosted by Luke Bird, whose personality is made for fullscreen, and his cousin Marcia Hopa, who makes Suzy Cato seem doleful in comparison. The pair don’t just delight in each other’s company, but seem to be very aware the show they’re on is tremendously silly. Bird breaks into a singing voice every other sentence, and at some points, literally barks at contestants, with Hope egging him on. It’s camper than a Boy Scouts convention, and I can’t imagine anything like it airing on our other broadcast networks – which shows exactly where those broadcasters are lacking, because I’ll take personality over shine any day.

The three rounds are increasingly ridiculous. In the first, the contestants have to answer questions like “How do you spell Māori?” and “What television channel is called the Home of Haka?”. In the second and third, they have to perform a series of physical challenges that are best explained through the hallowed medium of the screenshot:

My love goes out to whatever Māori TV employee had to get into a zentai and perform these demonstrations, but hey, at least they’re anonymous. The contestants have to do these things while being fully visible, identifiable by both face and name, in front of audiences in the studio and at home, while Bird screams at them. I don’t know how TV got to this point in 2021, but I’m glad to be alive at the same time as Lucky Dip.

However! The most ludicrous thing about the show, and what tells you everybody involved knows how silly this endeavour is, are the array of prizes. They’re truly, as the name of the show indicates, a lucky dip. The consolation prizes include a Māori TV tote bag, three potato peelers and a Hot Wheels, while the actual winning prizes are a microwave (Breville!, they enthusiastically yell), a watch and… a bucket hat.

At the end of the second episode, Bird wails at a contestant who has to eat an entire roll-up without using her hands, “You’re a uni student! You’re hungry!” and I think I was transported off the physical plane in that moment. I could not stop laughing, and more importantly, I could not stop watching. Let this run for as many seasons as they have Māori TV merch to give away.

Judges Pere Wihongi and Bella Kalolo on Five Minutes of Fame.

Five Minutes of Fame is a bit more serious than Lucky Dip, but what it lacks in silliness, it makes up for in a genuine wow factor. The show is a more relaxed version of the usual singing talent show, drawing from bits of The Voice, X-Factor and Idol to make up their rules.

The series pits singers against each other in four categories: rangatahi, tane, wahine, and ropu (groups). Each episode features eight performances – two from each category – from which judges Bella Kalolo and Pere Wihongi pick the best to go through to the next round. It’s like the opposite of Lucky Dip: we know the format, we get the format, and there’s nobody in a zentai trying to explain it to us or singing ‘I Have Nothing’ before the contestants come on.

The best part of the show is that its pleasures are so simple: it’s good singers singing good songs. There’s no making fun of people who can’t sing, there’s no heavily produced packages, and there’s no showboating. It’s not revolutionary, but not everything needs to be The Handmaid’s Tale. It’s goddamned nice!

It’s rare that a genuine highlight of a singing show is the pre-performance interview, but the charisma of every contestant shines in these moments. In the second episode, whanau singing group The Amazing Graces banter charmingly with each other, and while they might not be hitting the charts anytime soon, I’d much rather spend time with them than some floppy-haired lads holding guitars. It’s a little unfair to compare Five Minutes of Fame to Popstars, a show with much more money behind it, but it’s hard not to miss how the TVNZ show often feels like it’s beating the talent into shape to fit the format. This show is content to let its contestants, a mixture of rangatahi trying to break into music and veterans on the edges of the industry looking for a step up, show off who they are and what they can do.

The judges are also a huge part of why the show works. Kalolo, already the highlight of Popstars, continues to prove herself a tremendous onscreen talent. She’s warm, funny and engaged, as is co-judge Wihongi. I just wish there was more of Kalolo in the show. Much of her role involves rehearsing with the contestants ahead of their performances, and I wish we got a little bit more footage of that, rather than just the contestants gushing about the feedback she gave afterwards. I’m selfish! I just want more Bella.

If there’s anything that both of these shows prove it’s that Māori TV knows how to make TV that people actually want to watch. I entreat the powers that hold the purse strings: Give them more money. Well, maybe not to Lucky Dip, because that show seems to be making gorgeous lemonade from nearly expired lemons and I’d hate to see it lose that unhinged edge, but definitely shower Five Minutes of Fame with some more dollars. And for the rest of you? Get thee to Māori TV (which is also on demand, if you didn’t know) and watch these shows. Your stress levels will decrease, your happiness will increase, and if you actually watch them, chances are we’ll get more stuff like this, you guys!

Lucky Dip airs on Thursday nights at 8pm, while Five Minutes of Fame airs at 8:30pm on the same night. Both are available to stream on Māori TV on Demand.

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