SO NOW we’re off and running, and Photo Finish picks up pretty much where Page One left off. (That’s Page Two then, for those keeping count.) It's now three days to the First Edition, and immediately apparent are certain elements which one might expect to have taken longer than 48 hours to develop.

Lynda is more focussed, self-assured and in charge, rather than simply being Little Miss Bossy.  Having asked for help from Matt Kerr and got none, Lynda applies herself to the task in hand with drive and determination. What she doesn’t know she’s making up as she goes. She’s well on her way to being formidable with her peers (see how everyone defers to her when the telephone first rings), although there is still the odd wobble here to remind you that she’s still a novice finding her way in an adult world: contrast the real flash of vulnerability shown when she fears Chrissie might tell Kerr about the phone with her steely “You’re dead, Colin!” just moments later.

Spike and Kenny are huddled together as if they have been best buddies for years. This doesn’t really make much sense given they only met in Page One, but presumably in the interim they have shared a few bonding moments, sparked by their mutual obsession with Lynda Day.  Personally I’ve never believed in an unrequited lurve thing with Kenny, but nevertheless, he does appear to be totally devoted to her, at times to the point of stupidity. (We will see this beautifully illustrated later in Going Back to Jasper Street.)  Of course, this doesn’t jive with Harry Burns’ “men and women can never be friends” rule, but yummy Kenny is no ordinary man, and probably far too nice to even consider ever ‘doing the squelchy’ with his best friend.  I fondly imagine Kenny and Spike’s relationship rapidly blossoming as they trade detailed observations about Ms Day’s behavioural quirks, although Spike’s motivation is undoubtedly more about getting to Lynda than bonding with Kenny.

Elsewhere in the newsroom, Frazz is finishing up his horoscopes. The collective, spontaneous teasing session is a joy (Haemoglobin, Tarmac, Helium, Zinc and Carbohydrate are all perfectly pitched. I want Purple back on the list though.).  Mind you, I’m not convinced that dopey Frazz isn’t all just a clever act to deflect as much real work as possible.  He remains studiously bewildered at their suggestions – but is he having the last laugh? Despite his apparent confusion on the astrology issue in Page One, he’s clued up enough to make the “should have seen it coming” quip.  And just who exactly engineered the Disco-Info mission remains unclear.  My older, less than innocent eyes now watch Frazz as he stares fixedly at Spike whilst they are in the phonebox, and a rather less conventional explanation than Lynda ridding herself of a pair of KDs presents itself... (Mind in the gutter? Moi?)

But I digress. Frazz as lazy not stupid is proved beyond reasonable doubt for me here, since he is the one to have the eureka moment, just prior to the full-on exposition outside the police station. Truly, the realisation should have been Sarah’s, being a “proper” reporter in training, but instead it communicates something important about Frazz. Personally, I think they should have tumbled what was going on the minute they discovered that the owner of The Joint was named Jack Slade (a truly dodgy gangland moniker if ever there was one), who was clearly hired from the Bob Hoskins Looky-Likey bureau...

When not being visually devoured by Frazz, Spike is honing his own reporter skills, although this mostly amounts to getting the horns and charming meaningless denials out of middle-aged ladies.  Spike’s first source of information is an ex-girlfriend, Debbie Raymond.  This is not a conventional journalistic approach to cultivating informants, but it is a network that will prove to be extensive. He’s managed to notch up an impressive string of girlfriends already, most of whom will still speak to him, and that’s no mean achievement.  So why is he letting Miss Starch-In-Her-Tights walk all over him?  It must be true vole.  Humiliated in front of his mates in Czars, it is all the more telling that even after another frankly ungrateful put-down from Lynda, he openly rejects his old life in favour of his totally fictional ballet classes.  Clearly even the idea of imaginary dancing with Lynda is too intoxicating to resist. (And isn’t the end of this episode just a dress-rehearsal for the final scene of At Last a Dragon, but with less kissing?)

Hmmm.  Dancing.  Keep a watchful eye out, as Captain Subtext lurks around every corner just waiting to jump out and surprise you...