I really, painfully embarrassingly, love NCIS.

I know. It’s a police procedural that isn’t exactly The Wire. They’ve got fancy gadgets, a bad guy of the week, a coroner who talks to dead people – and the reputation of being your father’s favourite show. And yet, when it’s running new episodes every week, I can not wait for it to be Tuesday. NCIS is more than a show – it’s a family.

A family that starts problems in season 2 that don’t get cleared up until season 7. A family that knows the pecking order but can always count on the others to rally behind. A family that has more rules than situations that apply, and twice as many secrets. A family that has made it into my living room once a week for over 11 years and counting. And it has some of the best story arcs I’ve seen on television, hands down – smart twists and thoughtful ideas that keep the pace and my interest.

I’ve spent years defending my love of this show – and I’ll do it until someone cuffs me on the back of the head. And then some.