Welcome to the much anticipated Christmas treat from Netflix that is Bridgerton, and a warning. This is a technicolour version of 1813, the like of which you’ve never seen before. Careful with the contrast on the TV or your retinas could be fundamentally damaged by these outrageous costumes. A regulation Jane Austen style show this is not. Personally, I absolutely can’t get excited about anything else from the Shondaland production company – the trials and tribulations of hot doctors (bonking), hot defence attorneys (bonking), or hot political aides (most likely bonking), does not do it for me. Maybe I’m a cold fish with a heart that’s two sizes too small, but there you have it. But stick your soap opera in a bonnet and an empire-line dress and I’m there. I say my good fellow, fetch me a tub of your finest popped-corn and let’s commence these entertainments!
We’re in Regency London at the start of the social season. The debutants are girls from fine and wealthy families who are paraded and presented to the royal court like show ponies. These fillies are at the starting gate – it’s a race to the finish line and the prize is an eligible and wealthy husband. Queen Charlotte’s approval is enormously important to these girls and their families, but this season there’s another woman passing judgement on any and all affairs – the mysterious Lady Whistledown – the author of the hottest scandal sheet in town and our narrator, who refers to herself as “a bitch with teeth”. With lines like that Julie Andrews is clearly having the best time.
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