Is that it, already? The end of Cold Feet (ITV)? It’s going out with a party, Adam’s wrap-party for his 40s. What, it’s only his 49th, he complains. Shut up, Adam, you’re 50. And here’s A-ha to prove it. Plus the Eurythmics, Odyssey, Abba, Bob Marley, Sister Sledge and lots more age-appropriate dad-disco music.
The party, arranged by will-they-won’t-they Tina is the main timeframe for the episode, from which it dips repeatedly back into the recent past. Yo-yo TV, is the technical term. So here’s Karen signing a hot new writer to her new publishing house. And celebrating with a huge advance (know what I mean) from her inappropriately young, it-was-meant-to-be-a-one-off, social-media partner.
No such joy for Pete, who can’t get it up. Poor Pete has had more than his fair share of the issues in Cold Feet 2.0 – depression, near mercy killing, suicide and now impotence. Hang on, David has a pill that can help with that, a little blue friend for his little blue friend. Whoa, now Pete’s tentpoling like Billy Smart. Not that Jenny’s impressed. “It’s not exactly flattering; that’s chemically induced, that is,” she says, pointing at it, at “that”.
David’s happy at least. He’s off the hook, twice; the law hook and the Robyn hook. She is letting him have his quickie – divorce, not the other kind. And he’s going to celebrate, with proposal 2.0 to previous wife Karen. Trouble is, boring-snoring Eddie (go away, Eddie, just eff off) is, too! Karen gets two of them – proposals – within a minute; that has got to be some kind of record hasn’t it? And she’s clearly more interested in her Mr Retweet Me Anytime You Like Social Media. David and Dull Eddie end up rolling around on the floor together, not in an amorous way, just two old blokes trying – and failing – to have a fight.
Young Josh is back from travelling, and gay. Ramona – remember, the Spanish nanny (Spanny?) from Cold Feet 1.0? – also returns, for the party.
Adam tries to talk to Tina to tell her how he feels, but her boyfriend, Jamie, keeps interrupting. “What football team do you support?” United fan Adam asks him. “Chelsea,” Jamie replies. Adam nods in a knowing, thought-so kind of way, which looks less good broadcast the day after a four-nil drubbing. Did they have the fixture list when this was made, I wonder?
So Adam and Pete go to the offie to get more booze, and get caught up in a holdup. What? It’s too much, and it has been a symptom of the series, sudden high melodrama moments like this, and Harry’s near killing, plus Pete’s near suicide. It’s not necessary – Cold Feet should be confident enough in its characters and dialogue, its warmth and its wit, not to need these mad soap-opera moments. And it’s not as if there isn’t enough going on already, back at the party. Look, now the holdup is peacefully resolved (by Ban Ki-moon Adam, mainly), Pete and Jenny are having a quickie in the loo – shag, not divorce. No need for pills; impotence, depression, feelings of worthlessness can be sorted with a comedy (and replica it turns out) gun pointed at your head.
It could have been a disaster, the reboot of Cold Feet, 13 years on. It hasn’t been – the numbers have been dead impressive. Seven million viewers, in this age of about 6m ways of watching TV, aren’t easy to come by. I’ve enjoyed it – like going to a university reunion I was slightly dreading and not just being pleasantly surprised but actually having a really good time. Ah, yes, that’s why these people – Adam, Karen, Pete, Jenny, David, as well as Cold Feet itself – were my friends back in the day. Maybe I have moved on, there are new friends now, different friends, but it was bloody good to catch up. There will be another chance to next year – it has been recommissioned.
For now, though, there are a few loose ends to tie up. On the terrace, the lights of night-time Manchester twinkling romantically below (and Marvin Gaye’s Inner City Blues on the soundtrack), Jamie has brought a guitar to the party. “What a wanker,” says Adam, quite rightly, though it doesn’t stop him borrowing it. Well, when the game is love, anything goes. He serenades Tina, plays the wanker card himself, and the Ballymena (rhymes with Tina) one, and let’s-bond-over-bereavement.
It is, as she says, truly awful. And embarrassing. And it totally works. Jamie, the wanker, is sent home. Adam gets the girl. Manchester United 1, Chelsea 0.
