WITH a chugging tractor, cuddly farm animals and a pair of ruby-red wellies, we're off into the candy-coated world of There's No Place Like Tyrone.
Life in the sticks has never looked so glam. Against a backdrop of sun-kissed countryside, an audibly beaming Hugo Duncan on voice-over duties describes Tyrone in glowing terms before introducing the stars of the show.
The telly-ready cast are a colourful bunch, from Fivemiletown fashionista Shirley, who styles out wearing a gaudy animal print gown while having a foot bath, to beauty therapist Ruth, who also works on the family farm and enjoys clay-pigeon shooting.
They all seem carefree and game for a laugh, and so are bound to earn fans – particularly among townies who are likely to be baffled by some of the accents and dialogue.
Farming couple Bobby and Lynda are a fun pairing, especially Bobby (who, whisper it, actually hails from Donegal rather than Tyrone).
He banters with Lynda about whether he's her boyfriend or partner, and chats about feeding the cattle and "trying to get read up to go to a wake".
The couple form the focal point of this debut episode in the three-part series, as Bobby tries to plan Lynda a surprise birthday party.
The high jinks that follow include Bobby buying a birthday gift of four black sheep – which he dubs Tyrone's "Spice Girls" – and browsing the rails at a lingerie shop.
Along the way, his fellow cast members – most of whom in reality live miles apart, and didn't know each other before casting – are roped into the manufactured events through menial tasks like blowing up balloons and assisting in browsing through undergarments.
I say 'manufactured' as this is what's known as a constructed reality show, akin to The Only Way Is Essex (Towie) and Made In Chelsea – a format that perhaps 10 years ago would have still been considered fresh.
Viewers are advised of this structured nature from the offing, with a rather ominous-looking title screen at the beginning that reads: "The people in this series are all real, however some of what they do has been constructed purely for your entertainment."
The dialogue is unscripted, resulting in some stilted conversation between cast members who are brought together through light plotting.
Scripted reality works because events are coaxed along to act as a catalyst for drama that ensues between the cast members. The crippling problem with There's No Place Like Tyrone is that it lacks such conflict.
The only semblance of drama is the vague suggestion that Lynda does not like surprises. Of course in the end, she wholly enjoys her surprise birthday.
Everyone gets along, there's no bitching, no dramatic confrontations. The cast all meet up for the birthday at a pub – a perfect setting for a Peggy Mitchell-style row – and yet no-one gets thrown out or has a drink thrown over them. Where's the fun in that?
With plot lines this dull, There's No Place Like Tyrone could easily have been billed as a docusoap and viewers would have been none the wiser.
It means the show falls between two stools. It lacks the entertaining trashiness of Towie or Love Island, but by styling itself as scripted reality, it loses an endearing appeal like hit BBCNI show Keepin' Er Country.
Being from Tyrone myself, I was interested to see how the county would be portrayed in a Towie light. I was also intrigued having fully enjoyed the vacuous entertainment of Beauty Queen and Single, a BBCNI show from the same production team.
But if Tyrone people are looking for a hit show like Derry Girls which the county can call their own, best keep looking.
