Brendan O’Carroll, the 70-year-old Irish genius behind one of television’s most polarising comedies, has laid bare his soul in a poignant appeal to BBC executives. The creator and star of Mrs Brown’s Boys—famous for donning the wig and cardigan of the irreverent Dublin matriarch Agnes Brown—begged for the revival of his axed spin-off talk show All Round to Mrs Brown’s just days before the 2025 Christmas special aired. “I would love to bring it back,” he confessed, his voice laced with genuine longing, as the beloved sitcom faced a tidal wave of criticism for allegedly “ruining” the nation’s festive TV lineup.

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The plea came amid pre-broadcast fury when the BBC’s 2025 Christmas schedule dropped, with viewers erupting on social media: “Please don’t ruin Christmas with Mrs Brown’s Boys!” screamed one. “Genuinely not one thing that stands out—what a letdown!” fumed another. The show’s late-night slot at 10:15pm on Christmas Day felt to many like an unwelcome intruder in a lineup craving fresh joy. Yet for O’Carroll, a self-made icon from Dublin’s working-class streets, this was more than criticism—it was a dagger to the heart of a legacy built with his own family.

Titled Mammy’s Bottles, the episode finally aired on December 25, promising a rediscovery of “the true meaning of family.” Agnes rallies her chaotic clan for a festive photograph, while Cathy (Jennifer Gibney, O’Carroll’s real-life wife) agonises over gift lists, grandson Bono lashes out amid his parents’ separation, and Buster (Danny O’Carroll, Brendan’s son) unveils yet another disastrously dramatic Christmas tree. On the surface, it was vintage Mrs Brown: slapstick mayhem, fourth-wall breaks, corpsing laughs, and tear-jerking sentiment. But for critics and a vocal swarm of viewers, it plunged to “unimaginable new depths of unfunniness.”

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The Independent branded it “excruciating,” singling out a pub scene veering into awkward Gwyneth Paltrow candle territory and Grandad’s VR headset gag culminating in him comically air-humping a raw turkey before tumbling off the kitchen table. “Lazy,” “predictable,” and “painful” were the watchwords, with reviewers lamenting the absence of genuine storyline or sharp wit. The Irish Times went further, noting the studio audience laughter sounded “as if they are being held hostage,” amid a mushy plot urging family honesty during tough times. Social media exploded minutes into broadcast: “Woeful and unfunny—can’t wait to switch it off!” one viewer raged. “A new low,” declared others, with complaints flooding in over added laugh tracks and perceived insensitivity.

Ratings told a brutal tale. Overnight figures hovered around 2.1 million—a sharp 28% drop from 2024—making it the lowest-rated primetime comedy of the holiday season, per BARB data. Time-shifted views added little cheer, and social sentiment skewed 78% negative. Once a juggernaut pulling over 11 million at its peak, Mrs Brown’s Boys now struggles against revivals like Gavin & Stacey, underscoring a divide between loyalists and those deeming it a “stain on the Christmas calendar.”

This backlash isn’t new. Born from O’Carroll’s 1990s stage plays and radio sketches, the show exploded in 2011, blending crude puns, silly voices, and heartfelt messages that resonated with audiences feeling overlooked by edgier fare. It scooped National Television Awards (including 2024), spawned a movie, tours, and global fans in Australia and Canada. But critics have long dismissed it as “no-brow” vulgarity, unfavourably compared to Father Ted. Past controversies—a 2024 rehearsal “clumsy” joke implying a racial term, prompting a BBC probe and apology—fanned cancellation calls.

O’Carroll remains unbowed, his plea revealing a man deeply invested. The cast is family: sister Eilish as Winnie, son Danny as Buster, wife Jennifer as Cathy. “We get the ratings, and the viewers love it,” he insists, disclosing his contract runs to 2026 with BBC interest in one-year renewals beyond, allowing him to “grow into the part.” Reviving All Round to Mrs Brown’s—the 2017-2020 celebrity chat spin-off—feels like his lifeline, injecting variety into Agnes’s world.

Defenders rally fiercely. “If you don’t like it, change the channel,” they retort, praising its unpretentious warmth for intergenerational families craving escapism. Moments like Agnes pushing for honesty amid Bono’s pain capture real holiday messiness. O’Carroll brushes off “snobs,” emphasising the show’s appeal to those “left behind” by evolving comedy.

The tension is palpable. With a New Year’s special looming—paired with O’Carroll’s new drama Shedites (axed by RTÉ but airing on BBC)—and another series filmed in 2025, the BBC faces a crossroads. Will they heed Brendan’s heartfelt call, evolving the format to recapture magic? Or has relentless scorn finally eroded its festive throne?

In an era of polished streaming hits, Mrs Brown’s Boys defies as a sweary, sentimental throwback. O’Carroll’s emotional vulnerability has deepened the divide: for fans, it’s a cry to save a tradition; for detractors, proof it’s time to let go. As Agnes might quip, “That’s nice”—but the debate rages, ensuring Mrs Brown remains unignorably in our living rooms, for better or worse.

One truth endures: Brendan O’Carroll poured his life into Agnes Brown, turning personal roots into national treasure (or target). Whether glory returns or the curtain falls, his plea reminds us comedy’s power lies in connection—even when it divides us most.