TheJiveMaster

To the Manor Born may have first aired in the late 1970s and early 1980s, but even in 2025-45 years after its original broadcast-it feels surprisingly current. Beneath its charming veneer of English country life lies a social satire that resonates just as strongly today: the clash between old money and the nouveau riche, the tension between tradition and modernity, and the ever-relevant themes of class, pride, and reluctant romance.

Penelope Keith is pitch-perfect as Audrey fforbes-Hamilton, the haughty yet endearing widow forced to sell her ancestral home, Grantleigh Manor. Enter Peter Bowles as Richard DeVere, a self-made millionaire of Eastern European descent with a flashy style and supermarket fortune, whose purchase of the manor sets the tone for the show's comedic (and romantic) power struggles. Audrey wants to preserve the grandeur and traditions of old England, while Richard seeks to drag it-reluctantly, tastefully-into the 20th century.

What makes the series endure is how deftly it plays on social change with a light touch. In an age where environmental issues, economic uncertainty, and shifting class dynamics still dominate headlines, To the Manor Born remains remarkably topical.

The supporting characters-Richard's formidable mother Mrs. Polouvicka, the cheerful Marjorie, the well-meaning Rector, and Audrey's loyal butler Brabinger-offer warmth and gentle laughs, often bridging the gap between the old world and the new.

At its heart, though, this is a romantic comedy of manners. The relationship between Audrey and Richard echoes Pride and Prejudice, with Audrey's initial disdain for the brash outsider slowly giving way to affection. Misunderstandings and pride hinder their path, but we, the audience, can't help but root for them to get together.

With its sharp writing, elegant performances, and timeless themes, To the Manor Born remains a classic-still relevant, still witty, and still a joy to watch.

That's My Boy, produced by Yorkshire Television in the 1980s, was clearly designed as a vehicle for the irrepressible Mollie Sugden, who was riding high on the popularity of her unforgettable role as Mrs Slocombe in Are You Being Served? With her ever-changing hair, penchant for innuendo, and impeccable comic timing, Sugden was a household name-and this series gave her centre stage once again.

In That's My Boy, she plays Ida Willis, a no-nonsense, meddling housekeeper who discovers the young man she's working for is actually the son she gave up for adoption years earlier. The humour is built around the ensuing awkwardness, misunderstandings, and culture clash. Sugden dominates each episode with her larger-than-life presence, while Christopher Blake and Jennifer Lonsdale play their roles straight, effectively providing a platform from which Sugden's comedy can land.

Compared to other sitcoms of the same era, That's My Boy is relatively gentle and easily forgettable. The show doesn't break any new ground, and its appeal was always going to skew older-partly due to Sugden being in her sixties and playing a mother figure to an adult son, which naturally shaped the tone and humour.

Yet, for all its simplicity, the series still has charm. The plots may be predictable, but they're executed with warmth, and the show knows exactly what it is: light entertainment. There's comfort in its predictability, and Sugden's energy carries it through even its flatter moments.

Not a classic, but an affectionate throwback that remains watchable thanks to its star's enduring talent.

The Dish (2000) is a quietly brilliant film that captures a pivotal moment in history-not from Houston or the surface of the Moon, but from a sheep paddock in rural Australia. Set around the Parkes radio telescope, the film tells the true-ish story of a small group of technicians and scientists who played a vital role in transmitting live footage of the Apollo 11 moon landing to the rest of the world.

What makes The Dish so memorable is its beautifully understated tone. With trademark Australian humour-dry, modest, and often self-deprecating-the film manages to infuse a global scientific triumph with warmth and wit. It never overreaches or over-dramatises. Instead, it allows its characters, the town, and the moment itself to shine in their own quiet way.

Sam Neill leads a gentle, likable cast whose characters aren't grand heroes but ordinary people under extraordinary pressure. As the world watches, the stakes are huge, but the charm of The Dish is in how unassuming its heroes are. They bicker, joke, and doubt themselves-but they come together with purpose and camaraderie.

The film is also a love letter to small-town life and to collaboration-between countries, between cultures, and between personalities. In telling this scientific story through a handful of humble, decent people, The Dish captures something larger than the event itself: the quiet pride of contributing to human history.

Simple, touching, and often very funny, The Dish is a triumph in its own right.