The phenomenon of “Midsomer Murders” is an odd one. For one thing this British police procedural is not meant to be taken entirely seriously like “Inspector Morse” or “Broadchurch.” Your first clue is the cuteness of the setting versus the grisly nature of the multiple murders that take place in every 1.5-hour long presentation.
The inhabitants of the various villages and hamlets of Midsomer, a fictitional county or region in the west of the south of England are often quite wealthy, but they are waited upon by an earthy working class who all have an entirely different accent than that of the landed gentry. Class distrust is a recurring theme.
These people all take the unflagging string of murders in their midst with absurd sangfroid. They seem more upset by this disruption in the order of things than anything else.
The initial protagonist, Chief Inspector John Barnaby has now been replaced his cousin (!) Tom Barnaby. The elder Barnaby was former MI6 and relentlessly logical. The series of sidekick sergeants provide comic relief of sorts. Funny, mordant, tongue-in-cheek.