He served as Head of Deliverance at the London Olympics in Twenty Twelve, then bounced straight into the role of the BBC’s Head of Values in W1A. Now Hugh Bonneville’s affably perma-bemused exec Ian Fletcher has another tenuous job title – one that will take him across the Atlantic to Miami where, presumably, run-ins with Clare Balding will take up far less space in his working week.
In BBC Two’s Twenty Twenty Six, the latest Ian-centric comedy from writer John Morton, our everyman has just been installed as Director of Integrity for the Twenty Twenty Six Oversight Team, in charge of putting on the next World Cup. Or W***d C*p, as it becomes here, with all mentions of F*fa and its tournament bleeped out like expletives, in what’s either a recurring gag or an abundance of caution; in a very meta move, you can imagine Ian’s former BBC colleagues sitting in interminable meetings about this very decision.
His transatlantic move means that, as the voiceover from Twenty Twelve and W1A returnee David Tennant puts it, Ian must “establish his place in a corporate culture which is irretrievably American”. And given the nature of the tournament, his new colleagues are a very international crowd, each painted with a light smattering of stereotype.
Nick Castellano (Paulo Costanzo), in charge of business and legal affairs, is an all-American ass-kicker. Canadian Owen Mitchell (Stephen Kunken), who looks after logistics, is almost pathologically amenable. Generically European F*fa attaché Eric van Depuytrens (Alexis Michalik) is chic, standoffish and probably drinks a lot of espresso. Gabriela de la Rosa, the Mexican in charge of “optics and narrative” played by Jimena Larraguivel, gets very over-excited about Guadalajara.
But this global mix seems to push Morton’s comic skillset to its limits. He is brilliant at observing and capturing the cadences of certain awkward British micro-interactions and circuitous conversations, but some of his dialogue failsafes (the sort of “yes, no, of course, absolutely” streams of consciousness that mean everything and nothing) don’t quite work when they are transferred wholesale into such a different environment. And none of this motley crew feel quite as sharply observed as, say, W1A’s vocally fried PR maven Siobhan Sharpe (a performance from Jessica Hynes that was all too familiar for anyone who’d ever worked in the creative industries) or the gimlet-eyed Head of Output Anna Rampton (Sarah Parish).
Some plot points feel a little like retreads of W1A scenes, like when an unfortunate hashtag (this time #PowerOfPoop, a concept pushed by Chelsey Crisp’s head of sustainability Sarah Campbell) goes viral. The Gen Z social media team – populated by “sentiment creators” and “thought analysts” – also feel a little flat; their personalities seem to extend to talking like Nineties surfers (“Like totally? Dude!”), being zealous about pronouns and offering up ideas like “we need to Taylor Swift 2026”.
Morton is on much stronger ground with his British characters. The wonderfully named Phil Plank, played by Nick Blood, is a literal-minded former lower division footballer who is now in charge of “on pitch protocols”, which basically seems to mean pondering whether the players are going to get too hot running around the pitch in the American sunshine.
And Hugh Skinner makes a welcome comeback as Will, formerly Ian’s hapless BBC intern, now his equally hapless personal assistant, who appears to have nepo baby-ed his way into this new gig because his posh parents are friends of Eric’s (“I think it’s something to do with horses,” he bumbles semi-apologetically). Has he developed personally and professionally in the time since he was last on our screens? Don’t be silly – but he is still a blundering delight, especially when it comes to physical comedy.
One scene in which he investigates the office coffee machine with all the artlessness of a toddler is especially memorable (the cappuccino he later serves up comes garnished with one of his melted AirPods), as is a moment when Ian gives him a bit of a pep talk. “You don’t need to apologise for yourself generally,” he tells his rubbish protégé, who promptly apologises.
While the new additions may be hit and miss, it’s still fun to spend time with this duo (Hugh-o?) – although I wonder whether it might be time for Ian to retire soon. I imagine he’d do very well on a parish council in the home counties.
