This Country: the Aftermath review: the Mucklowes return in a quietly powerful, deadpan comic masterpiece
“I was watching this Henry VIII documentary last night and in many ways, he’s a lot like my dad,” mused Kerry Mucklowe about her bullying father.
“At first you think Catherine of Aragon’s got a screw loose or Anne Boleyn seems like a bit of a psychopath. But by the time you get to Catherine Parr, you do start to wonder whether the problem might lie with Henry. It’s a shame, because the wives should’ve chatted to each other. Like, if Jane Seymour had just sat down with Catherine Howard, she wouldn’t have touched him with a bargepole.”
Watch and learn, Simon Schama and Lucy Worsley, because triple Bafta-winning comedy This Country (BBC Three) was back with The Aftermath.
The masterful mockumentary series, created by and starring siblings Daisy May and Charlie Cooper, follows Cotswold cousins Kerry and Kurtan Mucklowe as they while away time in their sleepy village, getting into scrapes just for something to do. Think Detectorists meets The Office and you’re in the right rural postcode.
This keenly awaited one-off special was set seven months after series two, when Kerry’s guileless, trusting nature was taken advantage of by her devious dad, the monstrous Martin (played by the siblings’ real-life father Paul Cooper).
She’d become embroiled in a criminal scam by storing 170 stolen Dyson vacuum cleaners in her house on Martin’s behalf. As the police net tightened, Kerry vowed not to grass, insisting that “Mucklowes look after Mucklowes”. Would she be in prison when we rejoined? Happily not. Even more happily, Martin was.
Instead Kerry was doing community service by reading Dr Seuss books to the visually impaired, venting her frustrations by vandalising the village shop and feuding with Martin’s latest partner, the long-suffering Sandra (Holly Atkins).
Meanwhile, Kurtan had been “let go” from his bar job at the local bowls club but, ironically, couldn’t let it go. He was too worried about the club maintaining its stock level of Mini Cheddars and the manager “self-medicating with Stowford Press”. Kurtan passed the days working out his beanpole frame in the “new gym” opened by his mate Slugs (Michael Sleggs). Translation: a set of dumbbells and a Bullworker in Slugs’ back garden.
After going through her father’s belongings, thrown out by the wronged Sandra, Kerry became fixated on Martin’s former biker gang, the brilliantly named Satan’s Fingers. She tracked down a member who told her some ripe anecdotes from the old days. Yet in a gut-punch twist, Kerry also learned some painful home truths about the man she idolised.
Rev Francis Seaton (the superb Paul Chahidi), the endlessly patient parish vicar – or “a bald nonce”, according to Martin – sagely noted: “Kerry didn’t get what she wanted but I’m pretty sure she got what she needed in the long-term.”
Indeed she did. Broken-hearted Kerry finally woke up to Martin’s true nature, built bridges with Sandra and bonded with her half-siblings, Marvin and Martin Jr. “I’m mentor to them,” she said proudly. “A Mr Miyagi to their Karate Kids.”
To complete the happy ending, Kurtan got his job back and forgave the bowls club’s betrayal. As he said: “Keep your enemies close but keep your friends close as well, because they are your friends at the end of the day.”
The script was acutely observed and performed with understated naturalism. Viewers will never listen to David Gray or see Charlie from Casualty in the same way again. Kerry scoffed crisp-and-ketchup sandwiches, wore unflattering Swindon Town sportswear and wondered why there were no holes in her crumpets (it turned out they were upside down).
Daisy May Cooper’s face alone was enough to make me corpse, contorting itself into all manner of deadpan expressions without even seeming to try.
Beneath the loud and frequent laughter, the Coopers’ creation also has genuine heart. It glows with warm affection for its characters, while touching on issues such as rural poverty and mental health. Witness the quietly powerful scene when local eccentric Len Clifton (played by the siblings’ uncle Trevor Cooper) was seen sitting on a bench, eating dry cornflakes from the food bank.
Devotees might have been disappointed there was no role for cult heroine “Big Mand” (Ashley McGuire) but that was my sole complaint about this sublime 45 minutes of lovingly crafted comedy.
This episode also airs on BBC One on Saturday October 13 at 10.30pm. The show already has a loyal fanbase of 4m online but deserves an even wider audience. You won’t regret joining this particular country club. After all, Mucklowes look after Mucklowes.
