Ian Fletcher, the former BBC head of values, finds himself in a new arena: saving the 2026 FIFA World Cup. This unlikely mission forms the core of “Twenty Twenty Six,” the latest offering from the comedic mind behind “Twenty Twelve” and “W1A.” The initial episodes reveal a series that, while clever and funny, struggles to fully escape the long shadow cast by its predecessors.
The brilliance of “Twenty Twelve” and “W1A” lay in their ability to expose the baffling world of British bureaucracy with a unique blend of infuriating accuracy, sharp wit, and surprising heart. These shows weren’t simply comedies; they were insightful dissections of institutional dysfunction. “Twenty Twenty Six” attempts to recapture that magic, but shifts the focus to a fish-out-of-water scenario, transplanting Ian to Miami and a clash of cultures with his American and international colleagues.
This cultural collision generates plenty of awkward, toe-curling moments reminiscent of the earlier series. David Tennant returns as Phil Plank, the VP On Pitch Protocol, a character who seems even more out of his depth than Ian himself, delivering the series’ signature word salad with impeccable timing. The show also playfully explores American stereotypes, acknowledging the country’s diverse regional identities.
A standout element is the series’ witheringly funny portrayal of the World Cup’s social media team. The satire is pointed, bordering on cruel, and offers a scathing commentary on the vapidity often found in online journalism. Ultimately, the show finds its most resonant theme in a universal truth: incompetence is a common language, transcending borders and cultures.
Hugh Bonneville continues to excel as Ian, embodying a beautifully baffled charm. He’s the perfectly patient straight man, reacting to the chaos around him with a quiet exasperation that consistently elicits a smile. However, the series feels somewhat familiar, revisiting themes and dynamics already explored in “W1A” with a new logo attached.
The return of Will, Ian’s long-suffering assistant, feels forced, his presence serving primarily as a vehicle for jokes about nepotism and ineptitude. More noticeably absent is Siobhan, whose dynamic with Ian was crucial to the success of the previous shows. Her absence is keenly felt, diminishing the comedic spark that once defined the series.
A few jokes, particularly those concerning social politics and pronoun usage, fall flat, feeling dated and out of step. Despite these missteps, “Twenty Twenty Six” remains an enjoyable watch, hinting at a deeper narrative thread that may emerge in later episodes. It simply doesn’t quite reach the heights of its predecessors, lacking the same level of groundbreaking humor.
The series embraces the spirit of its forebears: if something can go wrong, it will, and Ian will be left to navigate the absurd fallout. While it may not be a revolutionary comedy, “Twenty Twenty Six” offers a familiar comfort for fans of John Morton’s unique brand of satirical observation.
