SARAH VINE’S My TV Week: Pariahs in paradise  

TEN POUND POMS

SUNDAY, 9PM, BBC1 AND iPLAYER

This is the kind of program that the BBC does very well. It’s not particularly sophisticated or witty, and it certainly doesn’t strain the imagination unnecessarily. But it’s a solid idea, beautifully cast and very well executed – and perfectly enjoyable to watch at the end of the day.

That said, there’s more than an element of soft power in action here. This is a performance about poor, post-war families who travel half the world by sea in search of a better life, seduced by the prospect of jobs, stability and happier times.

Of good, ordinary people who, through no fault of their own, are forced to flee their homes and who, instead of experiencing compassion and sympathy, are treated as outcasts and second-class citizens. What could the BBC possibly be trying to tell us?

Against the current backdrop of the government’s own immigration problems, it’s not very subtle and feels rather clunky at times; nevertheless, it is interesting to consider that the shoe is on the other foot.

And it’s also a reminder that Britain hasn’t always been a place where people risk their lives to come. In fact, my own family left this country in the 1970s, looking for something more than blackouts and strikes and three-day work weeks.

It was at my mother’s behest that my parents took the plunge, and here again it is a woman who, fed up and determined to find something better, sets the family on a new path.

Faye Marsay plays Annie Roberts, married to Terry (Warren Brown) in 1950s Manchester, a war veteran whose experiences drink away his wages, along with the few prospects she and their two children have in life.

For just £10 they can leave their grubby existence in post-war England and travel to Australia, land of sea, sun and surf. At least that’s the dream and they buy it. Except of course when they get there, it’s not exactly as advertised.

Their new home is a shack in an immigration camp, the locals are more than a little chippy – and everyone seems to enjoy rubbing their noses in their humiliation.

The only people who seem to have it worse than the Poms – including Kate, a nurse with a secret, played by Michelle Keegan – are the Aborigines, whose plight is witnessed up close by Terry in all its horror.

While taking a job digging trenches, he alternates between being targeted and befriending local thug Dean (played with delightfully psychotic menace by David Field), who introduces him to the less salubrious aspects of life Down Under.

Unlike other period shows like Call The Midwife, the nostalgia here is far from rosy. There are plenty of harsh realities at play. But the main problem is that by trying to cover the story with so many contemporary sensibilities, it loses a certain amount of authenticity.

The characters of Annie and Terry, in particular, don’t really fit the period – they both feel too modern in their demeanor, emissaries from a more awakened future. Or maybe just the BBC’s diversity department.

Smart and naughty… my kind of thing

COLIN VAN BILLS

BBC iPLAYER

I started watching Colin From Accounts at the suggestion of a friend and was instantly hooked.

It is set in Sydney (a very different Australia from the one portrayed in Ten Pound Poms), a city of urbane, gender-liberated millennials and craft beer.

Ashley (Harriet Dyer), a 29-year-old medical student who drinks tequila for breakfast, is on her way to work when her path crosses that of 40-something wannabe hipster slash microbrewer Gordon (Patrick Brammall).

He stops his car to let her cross and she shows her gratitude by blinking her chest at him. Chaos ensues, and he runs over a dog.

Dyer and Brammall got married in real life and co-wrote the show. It’s witty, irreverent and pleasantly dark in parts, taking the mickey out of the characters and their many pretensions while endearing them to the viewer. Funny, smart and naughty. Just my kind of thing.

No highlights for an addict’s wife

MATT WILLIS: ADDICTION AND ME

BBC iPLAYER

Most documentaries about celebrity couples tend to be little more than elaborate showreels for their vanity. But this was different, a candid insight into the nature of addiction and the way addicts affect those around them.

Matt Willis and his wife Emma were 1990s celebrities. She was a stunning TV presenter (still is); he was a member of pop band Busted. She seemed to have screwed her head on; he, on the other hand, was derailed.

When they married, he was only three days away from his first stint in rehab. Eighteen years and three kids later, they’re still together — but sadly, they still live with the specter of his addictions.

Apparently this was about his search for the reasons why he seeks oblivion in drink and drugs.

But what stood out was the toll his troubles have taken on Emma. Seeing this, I felt that he was ultimately aware enough of his own weakness to work through it – not least because he has his wife’s support.

She, on the other hand, seemed to have no one to take care of her. So often the case with addicts: all the attention is on them and their illness, and not on those who live with them. Like Emma, ​​they don’t get any of the highs, but all of the lows.