Jing Lusi’s Heathrow Hijinks Send Red Eye into New Year’s Meme Mayhem

Olivia Bennett, 1/2/2026Jing Lusi returns in ITV's Red Eye, where airport intrigue meets the British penchant for nitpicking. The series, while ambitious and chaotic, draws viewers in with its outlandish plot twists and memes galore, sparking spirited debates across social media.

Jing Lusi once again shoulders the burden—and, frankly, the best shoulder pads since the Thatcher era—as DS Hana Li. She’s sucked back into the swirling eddies of Heathrow: MI5 lurking by the coffee carts, embassies coiled in secrets, the sort of international intrigue that makes you check your passport twice. Standing guard beside her is Martin Compston, whose transition from Line of Duty stalwart to American Embassy chief Clay Brody might have raised an eyebrow if anyone had energy left after New Year’s Eve punch. Around them, Lesley Sharp’s Madeline Delaney and Jemma Moore’s Jess Li circle with a brisk intelligence, ready to chase down assassins—or, at the very least, the last sausage roll on the buffet table.

Sounds like a cracker of a set-up, right? Well—perhaps not for everyone. Within minutes of the season premiere, the knives were out, and not the ceremonial kind. If ever proof were needed that the crowd likes to pounce, a quick scroll through social media would do it. Some complaints landed with the sort of gusto usually reserved for reality singing judges: “The biggest pile of s*** I’ve ever seen,” wailed one commentator—one imagines, possibly still swaddled in novelty pajamas. Another, sounding only half awake, grumbled: “Barely believable characters who can’t see/understand the bleeding obvious.” Maybe a touch harsh, but after the wild indulgence of festive telly, perhaps lowered thresholds are inevitable.

Then: the gaffe heard ‘round social media. “Hmm, Ryanair at Heathrow?” said a viewer, half an accusation, half an incredulous giggle. It wasn’t long before the chorus chimed in; one could practically feel the collective satisfaction in unity, even as the writers probably wished someone had triple-checked the airport codes. Some lessons—like the fact that Ryanair operates out of Stansted, not Heathrow—Brits simply refuse to let slide.

Peeling back the plot, Red Eye is unabashed in its ambitions. It’s a heady blend: a cargo plane downed by (allegedly) the Russians; a murdered diplomatic courier; jets, embassies, and a killer mingling among the amuse-bouches at an American Ambassador’s soirée. It’s as if the writers ransacked the front page of every international news website, threw the best headlines in a blender, and pressed “maximum drama.” Laptops, betrayals, government jets—2025’s TV has decided subtlety is so last decade.

Of course, not all absurdities are born equal. Red Eye’s pièce de résistance this season? Richard Armitage, reprising his moody doctor act, resurfacing to save a life with little more than a saline bag from the fridge and what looked suspiciously like a home suture kit. By the time he attempted to perform roadside blood magic at his dinner table, one half expected someone to pass him a cocktail shaker along with the thread. Even Armitage raised an eyebrow at the spectacle—though, for the record, television doctors have never been known for their restraint.

Does any of this truly bother the great British public? In fairness, opinions diverge faster than Heathrow departing flights. Some are content to stay aboard, describing Red Eye as “run of the mill” in tones that suggest neither love nor loathing; others eye the escalating implausibility and simply grab another mince pie, waiting for something more believable (or at the least, less meme-able). And perhaps that’s where Red Eye court’s its most British of triumphs: not in narrative brilliance, but in uniting the nation through collective nitpicking—the new national pastime, if one’s honest.

Maybe it’s the season. After all, there’s something comforting, almost ceremonial, in gathering round to spot a continuity slip or roast an overzealous plot twist. As embassies lock down, spies lurk behind every canapé, and the supernatural shenanigans of The Traitors and Stranger Things vie for attention, Red Eye simply asks: why not enjoy the chaos? A little collective grumbling can be as warm as any leftover mulled wine.

At its core, Red Eye flirts with both spectacle and farce, teetering so convincingly on the edge one wonders if the writers are gently in on the joke. For every jolt of suspense, there’s a fridge-bag transfusion or an airline that never belonged—all compelling fodder for the communal Monday morning postmortem. Is this the guilty treat the season needs, or mere turbulence ahead for ITV? Toss a coin, raise a glass, and perhaps don’t ask too many questions about the roster at Heathrow. If nothing else, British viewers can still agree on this: when it comes to policing television, no detail is too petty and no slip-up too small. That, it seems, is a tradition that even a new year can’t quite shake off.

The annual hangover—equal parts festive fatigue and frost—still clings to the UK in early January, that peculiar period when British television attempts to rouse a nation from its mince pie malaise. ITV’s Red Eye strolls into this chilly stretch with the kind of swagger reserved for dramas that already dodged a season’s worth of Twitter ire, then wields it as armor against new-year cynicism. If there’s anything sharper than a Boxing Day breeze on London’s pavements, it’s the collective tongue of British viewers, primed and ready for ritual dissection.Jing Lusi once again shoulders the burden—and, frankly, the best shoulder pads since the Thatcher era—as DS Hana Li. She’s sucked back into the swirling eddies of Heathrow: MI5 lurking by the coffee carts, embassies coiled in secrets, the sort of international intrigue that makes you check your passport twice. Standing guard beside her is Martin Compston, whose transition from Line of Duty stalwart to American Embassy chief Clay Brody might have raised an eyebrow if anyone had energy left after New Year’s Eve punch. Around them, Lesley Sharp’s Madeline Delaney and Jemma Moore’s Jess Li circle with a brisk intelligence, ready to chase down assassins—or, at the very least, the last sausage roll on the buffet table.Sounds like a cracker of a set-up, right? Well—perhaps not for everyone. Within minutes of the season premiere, the knives were out, and not the ceremonial kind. If ever proof were needed that the crowd likes to pounce, a quick scroll through social media would do it. Some complaints landed with the sort of gusto usually reserved for reality singing judges: “The biggest pile of s*** I’ve ever seen,” wailed one commentator—one imagines, possibly still swaddled in novelty pajamas. Another, sounding only half awake, grumbled: “Barely believable characters who can’t see/understand the bleeding obvious.” Maybe a touch harsh, but after the wild indulgence of festive telly, perhaps lowered thresholds are inevitable.Then: the gaffe heard ‘round social media. “Hmm, Ryanair at Heathrow?” said a viewer, half an accusation, half an incredulous giggle. It wasn’t long before the chorus chimed in; one could practically feel the collective satisfaction in unity, even as the writers probably wished someone had triple-checked the airport codes. Some lessons—like the fact that Ryanair operates out of Stansted, not Heathrow—Brits simply refuse to let slide.Peeling back the plot, Red Eye is unabashed in its ambitions. It’s a heady blend: a cargo plane downed by (allegedly) the Russians; a murdered diplomatic courier; jets, embassies, and a killer mingling among the amuse-bouches at an American Ambassador’s soirée. It’s as if the writers ransacked the front page of every international news website, threw the best headlines in a blender, and pressed “maximum drama.” Laptops, betrayals, government jets—2025’s TV has decided subtlety is so last decade.Of course, not all absurdities are born equal. Red Eye’s pièce de résistance this season? Richard Armitage, reprising his moody doctor act, resurfacing to save a life with little more than a saline bag from the fridge and what looked suspiciously like a home suture kit. By the time he attempted to perform roadside blood magic at his dinner table, one half expected someone to pass him a cocktail shaker along with the thread. Even Armitage raised an eyebrow at the spectacle—though, for the record, television doctors have never been known for their restraint.Does any of this truly bother the great British public? In fairness, opinions diverge faster than Heathrow departing flights. Some are content to stay aboard, describing Red Eye as “run of the mill” in tones that suggest neither love nor loathing; others eye the escalating implausibility and simply grab another mince pie, waiting for something more believable (or at the least, less meme-able). And perhaps that’s where Red Eye court’s its most British of triumphs: not in narrative brilliance, but in uniting the nation through collective nitpicking—the new national pastime, if one’s honest.Maybe it’s the season. After all, there’s something comforting, almost ceremonial, in gathering round to spot a continuity slip or roast an overzealous plot twist. As embassies lock down, spies lurk behind every canapé, and the supernatural shenanigans of The Traitors and Stranger Things vie for attention, Red Eye simply asks: why not enjoy the chaos? A little collective grumbling can be as warm as any leftover mulled wine.At its core, Red Eye flirts with both spectacle and farce, teetering so convincingly on the edge one wonders if the writers are gently in on the joke. For every jolt of suspense, there’s a fridge-bag transfusion or an airline that never belonged—all compelling fodder for the communal Monday morning postmortem. Is this the guilty treat the season needs, or mere turbulence ahead for ITV? Toss a coin, raise a glass, and perhaps don’t ask too many questions about the roster at Heathrow. If nothing else, British viewers can still agree on this: when it comes to policing television, no detail is too petty and no slip-up too small. That, it seems, is a tradition that even a new year can’t quite shake off.