HOMELAND. Snap out of it.

Why have you gone all Putin-moody and arthouse-boring on us?

How on earth can you justify such an explosive finale last season, delivered as a stunning crescendo to an amazing build-up of tension, against the humdrum snorefest of this season's first three episodes?

Just wait, they say. The slow burn is necessary to set the scene for supposed "action" later on.

This burn is so slow, the fire's gone out. And I am close to switching off.

This week, I went to bed half-way through. That's how riveted I was. At least Brody showed his ginger head after being weirdly AWOL so far. But to spend most of the episode in the Tower of David? Unnecessary. If I could bear it, I would watch it again so I could count the number of times we saw Brody squinting into sunlight while wincing in pain from his wounds.

I understand TV shows cannot operate in fifth gear, at full speed, turned up to 11 every single minute.

But variety is the spice of life, and it is sorely needed to combat the bland in Homeland.

There is too much silence, too many moody stares, too much inexplicable bizarreness and way too much redundant dialogue. It's not mysterious, it's confusing.

If I wanted to listen to people talk for an hour and not understand a single thing, I would sit in on a Clive Palmer press conference.

Not Homeland. Not a show that is built on a foundation of cleverly-crafted pressure plots, rising and falling in intensity; layered with fast action, danger, moral dilemmas, characters we care about, the burning secrecy of forbidden relationships and the sting of injustice.

Make the plot snappier and, um, make it snappy.