Women on the Verge; Gordon, Gino and Fred; Press

“It all smacked of TV precision-made for a specific demographic, that demo being female, 35, probably Grazia readers wanting the solace of seeing characters they can relate to being brutally honest about babies, the biological clock, younger bloody women and useless feckin’ men. If you’ve seen Pulling or Catastrophe, Crashing, Motherland, Fleabag or Divorce, you’ll have found Women on the Verge a little samey.”
Benji Wilson, The Telegraph

“The sit and the com veer too close too often into Bridget Jones territory and their world isn’t fully realised enough for Women on the Verge to come near challenging Pulling or Catastrophe for their crowns. But as a placeholder while we await the fourth series of the latter, the new one of Motherland and Sharon Horgan’s turn as a woman worried about her unstable sister in Aisling Bea’s forthcoming Happy AF, it will do nicely.”
Lucy Mangan, The Guardian

“The premise, that they were driving through southern Italy picking up ingredients for D’Acampo’s friends’ wedding-vow-renewal ceremony meal, was flimsy, but I suppose some kind of narrative arc was needed on which to pin this scripted bromance. Hard to say when we reached peak narcissism. Was it when Ramsay pretended he wasn’t thrilled that it was his voice on the sat-nav or when D’Acampo deliberately bobbed his arse up in the sea so we could see his bare buttocks? Nice scenery, though.”
Carol Midgley, The Times

“Take out all the effin’ Fs in Gordon, Gino And Fred: Road Trip and you would be left with five minutes of footage. And that wouldn’t be worth watching, either. This highly publicised star vehicle was a laboured attempt to combine Top Gear with culinary travel. Careering round Italy’s Amalfi coast, the men were striving for that matey chemistry. But from the outset it was just torrents of foul language from Gordon, while Fred and Ginger threw their arms around and giggled in high-pitched shrieks.”
Christopher Stevens, Daily Mail

“Press ended last night. And it went a bit silly. I’m not saying it wasn’t fizzily entertaining — it was — but some of it was just daft. Ben Chaplin’s back must ache: he has carried most of this series.”
Carol Midgley, The Times

“Mike Bartlett is the master of the high-brow soap; his shows are Guilty Pleasures you don’t have to feel guilty about. And there was so much about the finale that was pleasurable, starting with Ben Chaplin’s verbal gymnastics.”
Benji Wilson, The Telegraph