For some, the very notion of watching the British upper-class elite cavort in their own trivial and frivolous affairs, quite literally, is something akin to watching paint dry. I’ll admit that the premise of the new adaptation of Jilly Cooper’s bonkbuster was almost amusing upon first inspection—as a hardcore socialist and a proud feminist, the appeal was lost on me. Well, how very wrong I was. Set amongst the idyllic backdrop of the Cotswolds, we enter a world of infidelity, treachery and shoulder-pads, all deliciously blended together while Wham plays in the background. Never before have the ’80s seemed so risqué. Amongst an array of delightful and memorable characters we have Cooper’s ex–Olympic-showjumper turned conservative MP bachelor, Rupert Campbell Black, who spends most of his time sleeping with his neighbours’ wives and locking horns with Tony Baddingham, owner of the fictional Corinium television studio. New to the world of the elite are the O’Haras: the workaholic and alcoholic Declan, the beautiful yet adulterous Maud, the somewhat naive but nonetheless delightful Caitlin, and our darling Taggie who covets the eye of Rupert, despite him being fifteen years her senior. Top-bitch Cameron Cook is the extremely glamorous and formidable producer of Declan’s show, which she balances with being Tony’s mistress. Add on the myriad of other enjoyable characters (played by a star-studded cast)— who are all shagging someone else’s partner— and you essentially get the gist of Rivals. To be quite frank, this show is the kind of television that you don’t watch with your mother. But despite the rather carnal appetites of this raucous bunch, Rivals provides an exploration into the turbulent world that was Thatcher’s Britain. The show emphasises the struggles of women breaking the glass ceiling, the nation’s hostile reaction to the AIDS crisis and the racism towards anyone who wasn’t English. There is a sense of glamorisation in the show (the constant champagne drinking, the scintillating affairs, the thick-lipped moustaches), but equally there is no hiding of how truly challenging the ’80s were. The showrunners do not shy away from this, rather they use it to create something that is both salacious and sincere, indulgent and convincing. For this alone I must commend them. And if all this cannot convince you to watch, then perhaps the chance at seeing Danny Dyer play the world’s most romantic character will. Talk about swoon-worthy. If you need your winter night’s warming, then look no further. I can guarantee by the time you’re halfway through the first episode, you’ll have found the cure to the energy crisis.