Ian Fletcher has always been the gold standard for the “perma-bemused” corporate executive. After navigating the bureaucratic labyrinth of the London Olympics in Twenty Twelve and steering the BBC‘s internal values in W1A, Hugh Bonneville’s career everyman has found a new, equally tenuous title. In the new BBC Two comedy Twenty Twenty Six, Fletcher is installed as the Director of Integrity for the Twenty Twenty Six Oversight Team.
The mission is as daunting as It’s vague: overseeing the preparations for the next World Cup. Writer John Morton continues his exploration of the linguistic gymnastics of management, though this time the setting shifts from the hallowed halls of Broadcasting House to the neon sprawl of Miami. This Twenty Twenty Six review finds a series that captures the absurdity of global sports administration, even if it occasionally struggles to translate its signature British awkwardness into an American corporate dialect.
The show leans heavily into the “meta” nature of its subject. In a recurring gag that mirrors the cautiousness of a real-world legal department, all mentions of “Fifa” and the tournament itself are bleeped out like expletives. It is a choice that feels perfectly in line with the spirit of the series; one can almost imagine a committee of executives spending six hours debating whether a bleep is the most “inclusive” way to avoid a trademark dispute.
Navigating a ‘Corporate Culture Irretrievably American’
The transition to Miami requires Ian to adapt to a workspace that is, as David Tennant’s returning voiceover puts it, “irretrievably American.” To populate this new world, Morton has assembled an international ensemble, though some characters feel more like sketches than fully realized portraits. The team is a study in professional stereotypes: Nick Castellano (Paulo Costanzo), the business and legal lead, is a high-energy “ass-kicker,” while Canadian logistics chief Owen Mitchell (Stephen Kunken) is almost pathologically agreeable.
Adding to the mix is the chic and standoffish European attaché Eric van Depuytrens (Alexis Michalik) and Gabriela de la Rosa (Jimena Larraguivel), the Mexican head of “optics and narrative” who brings a high-voltage enthusiasm for Guadalajara. While these archetypes provide a quick shorthand for the audience, they occasionally push the limits of Morton’s comedic range. The writer is a master of the British “micro-interaction”—those circuitous, polite conversations where nothing is actually decided—but these dialogue patterns don’t always land with the same precision when transplanted into a Miami boardroom.
You’ll see moments where the series feels like it is echoing its predecessor too closely. The plot point involving a viral, ill-conceived hashtag—this time #PowerOfPoop, championed by Sarah Campbell (Chelsey Crisp), the head of sustainability—feels like a retread of the social media disasters seen in W1A. Similarly, the Gen Z social media team, consisting of “sentiment creators” and “thought analysts,” are portrayed with a broad brush, speaking in nineties-surfer slang and suggesting the tournament “Taylor Swift 2026.”
The Return of the ‘Two Hughs’
Where Twenty Twenty Six truly excels is in its British core. The chemistry between the two Hughs—Bonneville and Skinner—remains the show’s strongest asset. Hugh Skinner returns as Will, formerly Ian’s hapless intern and now his equally inept personal assistant. Will’s ascent to this role is a masterclass in “nepo baby” dynamics; he has seemingly secured the position as his wealthy parents are friends of Eric van Depuytrens, a connection Will vaguely attributes to “something to do with horses.”
Skinner’s physical comedy provides a necessary counterbalance to the verbal sparring. One standout sequence involves Will attempting to operate the office coffee machine with the clumsy curiosity of a toddler, eventually serving a cappuccino garnished with a melted AirPod. The dynamic between the two is best summarized in a brief pep talk where Ian tells his protégé, “You don’t require to apologise for yourself generally,” to which Will immediately responds with an apology.
Complementing this duo is Nick Blood as Phil Plank, a former lower-division footballer now tasked with “on pitch protocols.” Plank is a wonderfully literal-minded character whose primary concern is whether the athletes will succumb to the oppressive American sunshine—a grounded, specific kind of absurdity that fits the show’s tone far better than the broader American stereotypes.
The Evolution of Ian Fletcher
| Series | Role | Primary Objective |
|---|---|---|
| Twenty Twelve | Head of Deliverance | London Olympics Logistics |
| W1A | Head of Values | BBC Corporate Culture |
| Twenty Twenty Six | Director of Integrity | World Cup Oversight |
Despite the occasional dip in satirical sharpness, the appeal of the Twenty Twenty Six review remains the pleasure of spending time with Ian Fletcher. He is the ultimate survivor of the corporate world, a man who can say “yes, no, of course, absolutely” in a single breath and somehow be promoted for it. However, as the series progresses, one can’t aid but wonder if Fletcher has finally reached his ceiling. There is a growing sense that Ian is overdue for a quiet retirement, perhaps on a parish council in the home counties, far away from the “integrity” of international sports.
The series continues to air on BBC iPlayer, where viewers can track Ian’s struggle to maintain his dignity in the face of Miami’s corporate chaos. Further episodes are expected to delve deeper into the logistical nightmares of the tournament’s oversight.
Do you think Ian Fletcher should finally retire, or is there more corporate carnage to be had? Let us know in the comments.
