The Sweeney

Comfort Classic: The Sweeney

From a distance of close to half a century, London is almost unrecognisable. Cortinas and Consuls squeal around a semi-­derelict city, pockmarked by Second World War bomb sites. Houses and shops are dilapidated, a permanent pall of smoke hangs in the boozers; people look old, even those who aren’t. Everything is grey.

Everything except detective inspector Jack Regan’s iconic brown suit and green kipper tie. And he was always hungry for nicking villains: “We’re the Sweeney, son, and we haven’t had any dinner – you’ve kept us waiting.”