Two attractive, single, strangers meet in unlikely circumstances and, following a series of comic mishaps, discover they have a connection in spite of their differences. So far, so conventional, but Australian series Colin from Accounts takes the ‘romance’ part of the rom-com hostage and refuses to accept it is anything but a kooky, gross-out comedy right up until the series finale.
The story picks up in a part of Sydney akin to Shoreditch. Ashley (Harriet Dyer), a medical student in her late 20s, has been dumped and is handling her break-up in traditional drunken style when she flashes a boob at a handsome stranger driving past.
The driver is Gordon (Patrick Brammall) who owns a microbrewery and seems to have his life together but for being single to the point of owning a punch bag, a drum kit and a unicycle. The sight of Ashley’s boob causes him to accidentally run over a stray dog, bringing them together as they save the mutt from being put down.
And if you, like me, thought ‘Colin from accounts’ would be the nerdy-type protagonist of the show who is brought out of his shell by a beautiful woman... it’s actually what they call the dog. Just one of the many examples of how the show toys with viewer expectations.
Dyer and Brammall, who also wrote the series, are wife and husband in real life. But Colin from Accounts is no intimate, schmaltzy romance; rather the pair try and cause as much embarrassment to the other as possible, from a sleepwalking Ashley weeing into Gordon’s sock drawer to Gordon accidentally sending her a dick pic.
The comedy takes a splatter-gun approach; if a few jokes miss the mark there’s always another one following fast behind. A workplace training scene about how to best pick up a pen is painfully relatable and there is fun to be had when Ashley walks through a hardware store and is persistently mistaken for a member of staff. The show’s greatest strength though, is the chemistry between its leads, and the dialogue, which treads the line between banter and affection without ever being too on the nose.
It’s a shame, therefore, that two clearly talented comedic writers are so reliant on toilet humour. There’s a set piece built around a hospital manager farting. Gordon has a cancer check-up but a conventional scan apparently doesn’t cut it, comedically, so he has a camera inserted through his nether regions as his doctor watches golf. And Ashley is in stitches when she discovers Gordon’s surname is Crapp, a joke so childish it wouldn’t be funny as a throw-away line or background gag, let alone stand up to repeated reference.
The background characters can also feel like an afterthought, at least in the early episodes. They are ever-present in the brewery or the hospital but always giving the kind of contrived rom-com advice that would feel more in keeping with a Farrelly Brothers film. And it feels odd, as this is exactly the kind of banality the show tries so hard to battle against. Only Ashley’s overbearing and grandstanding mother feels more developed, and with a personality beyond the usual “you go girl” sidekick.
In fairness, the will-they-won’t-they plot and conversations between the leads are enough to make the first series an enjoyable watch. But is there enough in the worlds of Ashley and Gordon to warrant a second ?
