Punchy parenting, boyband exes, and why I unexpectedly related.
The pilot of The Duchess (Ryan, 2020) wastes no time setting the tone: a mother-daughter conversation that’s political, pointed, and hilariously honest. Olive, Katherine Ryan’s sharp-tongued daughter, delivers the kind of truth bombs only a child could get away with — giving both the audience and the protagonist something to chew on. This isn’t just an edgy sitcom; it feels like a show quietly trying to dismantle hate, using characters on either side of the ideological fence as relatable entry points.
Within minutes, Katherine clashes with the other school mums — a scene that defines her character: bold, volatile, and unapologetic. It hints at domestic drama more than straightforward comedy. Then we meet Evan, her boyfriend, who walks headfirst into Katherine’s emotional fortress. She literally stands in the doorway, blocking him as he tries to connect — a neat visual metaphor for how guarded she really is. Romantic subplot? Barely. This show is far more interested in family than fairy tales.
Tonally, The Duchess lands somewhere between Fleabag (Waller-Bridge, 2016-2019) and Catastrophe (Horgan & Delany, 2015) — messy, naturalistic, deeply British. Katherine Ryan gives us a protagonist who doesn’t fit the mould and doesn’t care to. The twist? She’s also a mother. The central relationship isn’t romantic, but maternal, which adds emotional stakes that feel fresh in this genre.
And then… the ex shows up. Olive’s dad lives on a boat and screams “washed-up dad energy,” but Katherine never slags him off in front of Olive. Instead, she overcorrects — shielding her daughter from the truth in ways that clearly come from love, if not logic. Then we learn he used to be in a boyband, and Katherine’s quiet, exhausted rage had me giggling. I don’t have kids, but I still saw myself in her — a woman dodging societal expectations and building a life on her own terms. Validation is a major theme here — Katherine desperately wants it, but would rather die than admit it.
The big turning point comes when she tells Evan she wants another baby — via sperm donor. His reaction is justified, and his hurt speech adds depth to the show’s emotional palette. Katherine, in true Katherine fashion, makes it clear this relationship has an expiry date. And yet, just one scene later, Evan comes back to try again… only for her to immediately ask her terrible ex to be the sperm donor. Realistic? Questionable. Entertaining? Definitely. And any doubts I had were smoothed over by the brilliant revenge moment with a fellow school mum. Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.
While the show has plenty of laughs, Katherine Ryan is playing a dramatic character. Her choices drive the story, often into extreme territory — but there’s enough emotional grounding (thanks in part to her level-headed best friend) to keep things believable. If the series can keep riding that line between chaos and truth, I’m in.
Would I green-light it? Yes — especially if the rest of the season keeps playing with these big questions: What does motherhood look like when you rewrite the rules? And what happens when you refuse to apologise for it?
