Jack Rooke begins his autobiographical series by taking us back to 2013, just after his dad has died. “It’s shit when it’s your dad – the only one who knows the Sky pin,” real-life Rooke narrates as we watch his teenage self (played by Dylan Llewellyn) grieving with his mum Peggy (Camille Coduri) in their Watford semi-detached. “We stuck together like Phillip Schofield and Holly Willoughby,” he recalls, “but deep down we were sad like Eamonn and Ruth.” Get used to this emotional ping-pong: for every belly laugh in the next six episodes – and one erupts every minute – there follows a big old sob.
When Jack starts university he’s a self-described “damp cloth”, and Llewellyn is wonderful to watch with his wide-eyed naivety, fleece jackets and permanently perplexed look. He’s terrified of finally living his gay life openly (he hasn’t come out to his mum), but desperately wants to be excited about it. When he moves to halls, he meets well-meaning lads’ lad Danny (a brilliant Jon Pointing) – the kind of guy who mixes up Anne Frank and Tracy Beaker and calls himself an LGBTQ+ “ally-lama”.
