Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Be wary of these two words when used together: Christmas and special. They are, of course, a staple fixture of the TV schedules but, in my mind, they conjure up two extremely unappealing scenarios. Scenario one: we couldn't be bothered to make a proper episode so we rehashed a few old gags with a vaguely – but obviously forced – festive feel. Scenario two: we couldn't be bothered to make a new series but wanted to cash in on the Christmas viewing figures so created this tedious feature-length behemoth instead.
The Boomers Christmas special fell firmly into the first category and thankfully so because a feature-length edition of tired clichés, wooden acting and dated "jokes" would have had me scratching my own eyes out just to make it stop.
This "special" sitcom was farcical for farce's sake and unbearable to watch. Sadly, it shouldn't have been. Boasting a stellar British cast – James Smith, Stephanie Beacham, Alison Steadman and Philip Jackson among them – this could have been a rare comedy treat. It could have been dry, creative, clever even. Instead, the gags were even more obvious than Russ Abbot's receding hair.
The premise revolved around six middle-aged "friends" (these people clearly hated each other) awaiting the last shuttle of the day from Calais on Christmas Eve so they could get home to Norfolk in time for Christmas dinner. Predictably, events repeatedly transpired against the group to make them miss it. Cheap gags about German tourists stealing their seats ("They're Germans, that's what they do. It takes them five minutes to move in and five years for us to get them out"), lame attempts to make religious ignorance amusing ("Sorry, I didn't mean to touch you – I know that boundaries are very important to you guys [Muslims]") and tedious plot lines about incorrectly booked tickets, lost luggage and wrongly administered pain medication did not for a happy Christmas make. When they finally did miss their train, I was glad. It meant that they faced waking up on Christmas Day on a grotty bench with nothing but some lukewarm schnapps and a gingerbread house to sustain them. Even that was more than they deserved.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments