The experience was cathartic. Never had she seen such an incredible TV show.
It followed four middle‑aged, witty and charming women in London navigating love, changing partners, and the tug between liberty and respectability. Early episodes established each woman’s temperament, friendships and flaws, with bracing, frank dialogue and notable fashion statements.
But then it got real.
In Episode 11 of the first season the main character, Melissa, a wonderfully crazy and humorous invention, started to eat her dildos. She then began marching in her pink SS-uniform in the hallway of her gorgeous flat, while expensive designer kitchenware was fornicating in the living room. The CGI was top-notch. Her three friends, came over and were suddenly all men. They talked in Cockney dialect and were dirty, yet still had a cool, urban style.
She had to pause to make a cup of tea, but almost ran back to the screen to see what would happen next.
The three friends, who seemed to be experts of Japanese bondage hung Melissa naked from a hook in the ceiling and started to play dart using the television as dartboard. It was a real surprise to her when the three men suddenly began vomiting before the television that had become an altar for the demon Zeus. Zeus was naked and muscular, his body tanned dark bronze. His voice was booming, but pleasant as he told them that fascism had returned, and that it was time for them to organise and fight back. That humans live in cycles of shame over recent horrors and forgetfulness leading to more horrors… and stupidity and ugliness.
Her television started humming. Then it exploded in green flames – and for a short second she was ready to never watch anything again, leave the city, actually do something.
But the next day she ordered a new telly. She had decided that it would be a shame to miss episode 12.
