Don’t be put off by the premise – Home is a delight
Iavoided the first series of because “Channel 4 sitcom about a Syrian refugee” didn’t sound wildly appealing – too much scope for cringe-making jokes. But after seeing the first episode in this second series, I’m happy to admit I was wrong. It’s actually a delight, being both humane and funny. When it was over I headed straight off to catch-up and binged on series one.
Youssef Kerkour is Sami Ibrahim, who stowed away in the boot of an unsuspecting family’s car as they travelled back from a holiday in France. The family, Pete (a splendidly bumptious Rufus Jones, also the show’s writer), his partner Katy (Rebekah Staton) and her son John (Oaklee Pendergast) took Sami under their wing. In last night’s episode, we found him in limbo, now living in temporary accommodation and waiting to discover if he has been granted leave to remain.
Part of the comedy is in examining the attitudes of the middle classes who like to think of themselves as liberal. Pete sympathises with Sami’s situation as he drives him back to his digs after a day out, but has not counted on them being a three-star hotel with attached spa. “No offence but you enter the country illegally and the taxpayer is expected to foot the bill for this?” he splutters. “Comprehensive tea and coffee facilities – he’s got a Twinings collection!”
Kerkour is wonderful as the sweetly soulful Sami, a bear of a man who is wedded to the zip-up cardigan he wore on his journey to the UK. He is still wearing it when, after six months waiting to hear about his status and distressed at being separated from his son, he flips out and locks himself in the hotel sauna. “He’s taken a hostage?” Pete asked the police after being called to the scene. “We’re not using that language yet as we’re trying to respect the energy flow of the spa,” came the reply.
The charm of the show is the way that it makes serious points – about the life-or-death situations that force people to flee their homes, and about the Home Office’s impenetrable asylum claim system – with low-key humour. “I think I’m trying to melt away,” he said during his sauna protest. A moment later, acknowledging that he needed to end the protest because he was uncomfortably hot: “You know when I said we are a desert people? We are not a desert people. We are a dessert people.”
What would Margo Leadbetter have made of Britain’s Most Expensive Home: Building for a Billionaire (Channel 4)? The thought arose as Penelope Keith provided a crisp voice-over for a documentary about the Mayfair mansion of billionaire businessman John Caudwell. One suspects Margo would have been popping in at every opportunity to keep an eye on the build, and bagging a place next to Fergie at one of Caudwell’s charity balls (yes, the Duchess of York flew in for a cameo appearance, announcing: “I had to get Ryanair to Stansted. It’s not every day I do that.”)
This was a supersize-me Grand Designs, as we watched a renovation project go wildly over budget. How far over budget? Oh, just £58million. For that kind of money, though, you get some special features. A swimming pool with “bespoke installation designed to look like a wall of lava”. A “Thai-style dining room with its own indoor river”. Caudwell, who sold his Phones 4u business for £1.46 billion, bought the house for £87million when it was “a tasteless gold palace”. He thought that could be put right for £10 million. By the end, the renovation bill was close to £68million.
The figures were so mind-boggling – 43,000 sq ft of space, 110 rooms to fill, £6 million spent on furniture alone – that before long I had lost all sense of perspective. A mere £5,000 budget for the koi carp? You can only get five fish for that, you skinflint! It was oddly reassuring to find that even some of Britain’s most successful business figures can’t keep a grip on the renovation budget, and only belatedly realise that mirrored dance floors have an inherent design flaw for women who don’t want the world to see their knickers.
Whether you found all this splashing of the cash impressive or vulgar will have depended on your personal Leadbetter level, but it didn’t take a psychologist to glean the reasons behind it. Caudwell explained that he grew up poor and was bullied for his ginger hair. Now he wants the world to know just how well he’s done for himself, including the millions he donates and raises each year for charity. And what better way to do that than with 20,000 sheets of gold leaf and an underground car-stacker?