In a world in which many thought they could never be described as mentally unwell due to their size, and after Skins had dominated the previous decade with depictions of teen mental health as mysterious traits of our thin peers, My Mad Fat Diary offered a more down to earth narrative about the joys of finding popularity – and the pitfalls of trying to fit in – in a world that isn't fat-sized. ![]() For those of us who had ever been fat, lonely and mentally unwell, it was the first time we were ever seeing ourselves properly portrayed on TV. Over two years, we watch as Rae tries to navigate the world not just a teenager, but as a mad, fat one. In the first episode, Rae Earl introduces herself as "16 years old, 16 stone and certified mad", immediately centring the show on fat mental health. Leading the fat revolution in 2013 with an adaptation of Rae Earl's book of the same name, My Mad Fat Diary did plus-size representation in a way that hasn’t been matched on British TV since. My Mad Fat Diary is timeless not just because it's a teen dramedy set in every millennial's favourite era (the 1990s), but because of the subject matter. But it was the world they constructed – one where the moon is sentient and Bryan Ferry lives in a house made of bus tickets in the woods – that gave it such a distinctive style. Their bread and butter was improvisational banter: Noir's new age optimism vs Moon's grizzled pseudo-intellectualism. Originally a stage show and then a radio series, The Mighty Boosh injected a dose of mischief into the classic odd couple format – Noel Fielding as whimsical metrosexual Vince Noir, Julian Barratt as cynical jazz enthusiast Howard Moon. In accordance with popular opinion at the time, I thought electro house was the best genre ever invented, and that an intersex merman loosely based on Rick James interrogating people about drinking Baileys from a shoe was the height of comedy. ![]() There is nothing I loved more in 2006 than pairing a purple H&M hoodie with some crap leggings, smashing "play" on an Ed Banger compilation and going to Fopp to purchase a DVD box set of The Mighty Boosh. Making full use of cut scenes and locations that keep an otherwise static format on its feet, Marion & Geoff is carried on the shoulders of Rob Brydon, whose ease on camera transforms a tragic but ultimately likeable character study into a compelling portrait of loneliness. When he reaches the part where Geoff’s dad walks into a bedroom and catches them hooking up, Keith obfuscates the details with a long pause… then snaps back into his flow and calls himself an "absolute fool!" for leaving the pool unattended. His optimism is so blinding that Keith doesn't realise Marion and Geoff were having an affair until he's mid-way through a story about a birthday pool party at his house, six episodes into series one. As he drives around, Keith chats away like a friendly lone-drinker who corners you at the pub, unwittingly revealing the sadness of his life while insisting he’s "the happiest he’s ever been!" On his birthday, he cheerily announces that he's been "inundated with mail", which turns out to be: a bill from the phone company and nothing from his two sons, "as yet". Starring Rob Brydon as Keith Barret, a taxi driver whose wife (Marion) left him for her colleague (Geoff), the show is essentially a divorce vlog – with Keith monologuing into a camera on the dashboard of his car. With one actor, one camera and one car, Marion & Geoff guides us through the breakdown of a marriage with more depth and nuance than some HBO dramas.
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