“I used to just get a drink and watch them and think: wow.” Tears fill Caroline’s eyes as I howl unashamedly on the sofa. And lovely Caroline listens while Roger tells her about his wife’s death and the love between her and their daughter. Monique does her best with patently nervous Paul. Quick-witted and kindly Elliott is gentle and gentlemanly with sweet Sharon. Ebullient Clayton charms the quieter Natalie. If he is ready for another relationship, I am a perky-breasted twentysomething.īy the end of the first episode, they have all been forcibly paired up and sent on a date. He is handsome and charming and clearly still heartbroken. His children nominated him as a way of showing that they would be happy if he started looking for someone new. The notable exception is Roger, who was widowed only a year ago after being with his wife for nearly 40 years. The men seem mostly just not to have got around to settling down yet. Their sons and daughters have generally sent them in with instructions to break the pattern: “‘My type’ has not served me well in the past.” Oh God, I hope the vetting has been beyond rigorous … The women’s histories are largely composed of unfaithful-and-worse men, a subsequent lack of self-esteem and an unwillingness to hurl themselves back into the dating pool now that they have accumulated so much empirical evidence that it is not worth it. I have screamed and vomited while watching the plasticised Love Islanders press their bronzed bits against each other and try to form thoughts then words that match them, but My Mum, Your Dad is full of genuinely poignant (and genuinely funny – as when one of the dads wants to know if Davina is “off the table”) moments that had me laughing and crying more than once.Īs ever when real-real people are involved, the division between the sexes is fascinating. Unlike the usual contestants, these people have real stories, real baggage and, as a consequence – get this! – real emotions. Still, it soon becomes clear that, unlike Love Island, humiliation and hate-watching are not the goals here. By the end of the first episode, things are still bearable, but I can see it easily becoming excruciating as “connections” – the euphemism flying around – are made. Nobody wants to see their parents in flirt mode, and nobody wants to see someone see their parents in flirt mode, either. “Do we have any sickbags?” asks one, speaking for all. It was unbeknown to the kids until the last minute, too the horrified expressions when McCall tells them are a sight to behold. The twist is that the kids are – unbeknown to the parents – watching everything from a surveillance room.
Four single mums and four single dads have been nominated by their adult children to enter a show in which they are hoping to find love. The setup is familiar, even if you haven’t seen the US and Australian versions.
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