Looking back, the “Who is H?” saga was a beautiful, frustrating joke on the audience. It taught us that sometimes the mystery is better than the answer. We wanted Al Capone, and we got a man who couldn’t format a table.
But here’s the thing: it’s still brilliant. The journey of obsessing over every glance, every slurred word, and every dodgy text message was a shared experience. It was like a national scavenger hunt where the prize was a single, damp firework. And you know what? I’d do it all again.
So, next time someone asks you, “Who is H?”, just smile and say, “A bloke named Buckells who’s probably still filling out the wrong paperwork in prison.” Then watch their face melt into confusion. It’s the perfect party trick.
In the end, Line of Duty didn’t just give us a villain. It gave us a lesson: Never trust a man with a clipboard, and always remember—the worst monsters are the ones who look just like the rest of us. And possibly have a name starting with B.
