Conversations with Friends… I had lost the will to live before episode three

Billy Weir

Joe Alwyn as Nick and Jemima Kirke as Melissa in Conversations with Friends. (PA)

Press Association Images

Joe Alwyn as Nick and Jemima Kirke as Melissa in Conversations with Friends. (PA)

May 19 2022 01:30 PM

The Irish are generally renowned across the globe for being in possession of the gift of the gab. Of course, some people abuse this and become renowned as a bit of a ganch, so it is probably best to turn it down a notch or two.

So when Conversations with Friends came along there was the very real danger that this could get out of hand quickly.

But no, BBC Three’s adaptation of Sally Rooney’s novel is clearly more tongue in cheek, as tongue-wagging is kept to the bare minimum.

It is swapped instead for wistful looks into space, mainly on empty trains, usually accompanied by music that would put Timmy Mallet in a mood.

Many will have tuned in not for words, but for action. This is the follow-up to one of the surprise hits of recent times, Normal People, which quickly built a cult following because of the amount of bed gymnastics on show.

I’m not saying this drew me in, but sure what’s the harm in having a wee look?

If the first two episodes are anything to go by, no harm at all.

The story revolves around two poetry-loving chums at Trinity College in Dublin, Frances and Bobbi, former bed gymnastic partners, who become friends with English author, Melissa, and her husband, Nick, a slightly famous actor and possessor of magnificent hair.

In between walking her way round Dublin (and parts of Belfast as it was partly filmed up here) Frances and Nick stand around looking awkward, saying very little, while Bobbi has made it her mission to have more than a conversation with Melissa. Imagine a Nick Hornby book with awkward Irish shenanigans and you have the general idea.

Frances and Nick are unlikely bedfellows in that he talks for a living and she is so busy texting, looking into the distance and daydreaming, that she may as well not be there.

Like Rooney’s characters in Normal People, she hails from the west, we know this because we go on a big train journey and look out the window, and on arrival we find out her dad is Tommy Tiernan.

It was a busy week for him, this and the last two episodes of Derry Girls, where at least he got to say something even if was just to answer abuse from the granda.

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Frances and Nick finally have a snog at a party, thus leading to much guilt and a longing for more. When she later texts an apology and suggests coming round in person when his wife is in London to apologise some more, it was time to get the leotards out for the Dublin and District Gymnastics Championships.

That was in episode three. Apparently. I had lost the will to live and had no desire to see Nick’s lovely hair being tousled, silently and in wistful fashion.

I needed some chat. But be careful what you wish for.

BBC2’s The Chris and Rosie Ramsey Show promised much of that and, by God, they didn’t let us down, the real-life couple’s re-boot of their hit podcast never shut up.

Each week they welcome another celebrity couple to sit on the sofa for a hugely awkward array of staged questions that aim to show spouse-squabbling at its very best/worst.

I eagerly await the episode with Johnny Depp and Amber Heard, but in the meantime we had to settle for Jamie Laing and Sophie Habboo, two very posh folk from Made In Chelsea.

It is clear the makers have dug into every relationship-based show ever made, the opening title is a complete rip-off of Bewitched and the stools and sofas from Blind Date.

Alan Carr’s drinks cabinet for guests has been upgraded to a full bar which probably helped as we endure items such as ‘What’s Your Beef?’, where couples’ moan about each other (Mr and Mrs) and ‘Please Keep Me Anonymous’, a rip-off of Graham Norton’s red chair.

For some reason, although it may be the law, this meant the involvement of Judi Love to read out dirty stories. This sort of thing wouldn’t happen in Dublin. Oh…

Anyhow, the dramatic climax of the evening is ‘It goes or I go’ where three couples bid to persuade the audience to get rid of a beloved item of one of the participants.

The three items in question were a soiled pillow, a ripped dressing gown and a huge collection of Boyzone CDs, videos and assorted paraphernalia belonging to Louise.

Amazingly she won, which was handy as Ronan Keating was behind the scenes.

If the other two had won he probably would have taken them to Dunnes to replace the items, but instead he helped wreck her beloved possessions and then had a cringeworthy wee sing-song.

Ronan, be like Frances, you say it best when you say nothing at all.