Peter Gordon’s Murdered to Death is a delightful spoof of an Agatha Christie-type whodunit, full of terrible puns and amusing malapropism, a little mystery and a touch of mayhem. Set in the stereotypical drawing room of an English country manor house in the 1930s, the usual cast of characters - the elderly, widowed mistress of the manor, her dowdy, put-upon caretaker/niece, the dotty butler and an assortment of houseguests: the crusty, retired colonel and his fearsome wife; the shady, silver-tongued art dealer and his high class companion; and the well meaning but interfering, local busybody/sleuth, who seems to attract murder wherever she goes - gathers before dinner when predictably, a murder is committed. The police are called and the bumbling detective arrives with a trusty constable at his side. The inspector trips over the clues and points fingers in every direction while never quite seeing the obvious and nailing the culprit. It is not so much a question of whether the inspector will unmask the killer before everyone else meets their demise, as whether he will make an arrest before the audience dies of laughter.