Having spent the best part of my childhood evenings sat on the sofa gasping incredulously as Hercule Poirot announces the murderer from a line-up of characters both highly questionable and amusing in equal parts, I would like to think of myself as somewhat of a whodunnit connoisseur.
Naturally thriller novels have come a long way since the days of Agatha Christie or Arthur Conan Doyle where the detective, with all their wit and knowledge, put us to shame for accusing the most obvious of characters.
