The Media's Abs Obsession: The Latest Celebrity Spectacle and Why It's So Tired

So, the BBC is wheeling out the national treasures again. Give me a break.

Just when you thought the nostalgia-industrial complex had finally run out of steam, they fire up the defibrillator and jolt another beloved corpse back to life for one more holiday special. This time, the BBC has announced that Ab Fab stars Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley reunite for Amandaland, parachuting the iconic duo into a sitcom that is, itself, a spin-off.

Let's be real. This isn't about artistic vision. This is a network executive staring at a spreadsheet, seeing a dip in holiday ratings, and screaming, "Get me Patsy and Edina! I don't care how!" The press release is, of course, a masterclass in corporate fluff. Saunders is "delighted." Playing Lumley's sister is "guaranteed to be a laugh." Translation: The check cleared, and the shooting schedule wasn't too demanding. Who can blame them? But let's not pretend this is some grand creative reunion. It’s a ratings patch. A nostalgia-fueled Hail Mary.

The Remix Nobody Asked For

The whole setup feels... calculated. Amandaland is about a divorced, middle-class woman named Amanda who’s forced to move from posh Chiswick to the decidedly less-posh South Harlesden, which she pretentiously rebrands "SoHa." It’s the classic "fish out of water" trope, a premise so tired it’s practically comatose. The show apparently got "rave reviews," which in today's media landscape could mean anything from "genuinely clever" to "it didn't actively cause physical pain to watch."

Now, they're injecting Saunders and Lumley into this thing. It's like a struggling restaurant deciding the solution to their bland menu is to just dump a whole bottle of truffle oil on everything. It might overwhelm the original flavor—or lack thereof—but hey, people love truffle oil, right? They're not banking on the quality of Amandaland; they're banking on two decades of goodwill for Ab Fab.

And what exactly are we getting? Saunders plays the "enthusiastic upper-class bluster" sister to Lumley's character. So, a slightly different flavor of what made them famous in the first place. This is less of a creative stretch and more of a slight wardrobe change. Can this formula actually work without the brilliant, anarchic spirit of Ab Fab propping it up? Or are we just getting the ghost of comedy past?

A Cringe That Echoes Through Time

If you want a sign of where this is all heading, look no further than the quote from the show's star, Lucy Punch, speaking "in character" about the Christmas special. I had to read this twice to make sure it wasn't a parody.

"The Christmas special is going to be an absolute cracker - it's like totes fire, with all the festive feels, for reals. Slay bells!"

I can almost feel the chill of the writers' room where that line was born. The smell of stale coffee, the hum of fluorescent lights, the palpable desperation of a 50-year-old man in a suit who just discovered Urban Dictionary. That single quote is a cultural train wreck. It's the sound of a network trying so, so hard to be relevant that its teeth are grinding into dust. Its a classic move, and it never, ever works.

This is the creative well from which this reunion springs. A world of "totes fire" and "SoHa." It makes you wonder what Saunders and Lumley, two genuinely sharp comic minds, really think of it all. Do they stand on set, listen to lines like that, and just retreat to a happy place in their minds where the paychecks live? Or do they genuinely believe this is... good? The thought is honestly a little depressing.

Then again, maybe I'm just being a cynical bastard. Millions of people will probably love it. They’ll get to see two of their favorite actors on screen together, have a few laughs, and drink some mulled wine. Maybe that's all a Christmas special needs to be. No, 'needs' is the wrong word—maybe that's all we can expect from one anymore. It ain't high art, but it fills a slot in the schedule.

So, We're All Watching, Right?

Let’s not kid ourselves. For all my complaining, for all the eye-rolling cynicism this announcement deserves, the strategy is probably going to work. The gravitational pull of Saunders and Lumley is too strong to resist. We’ll tune in out of curiosity, out of nostalgia, out of a desperate hope that a flicker of the old magic is still there. We’ll complain on social media about the cringe-worthy dialogue, but we’ll watch. The BBC knows this. They’re counting on it. And in the end, we're the punchline.