Jacob Rees-Mogg’s new TV programme is the world’s first 19th century reality show

Imagine for a minute that John Logie Baird was around at the peak of the Industrial Revolution, and invented his television around the year 1800.

By around 1810 we’d have regular TV news broadcasts. Around 1834, we’d maybe get some version of Coronation Street, and Victorian Britain’s answer to Channel 5 might launch around 1871.

Then, in the 1880s, we would see the emergence of fly-on-the-wall reality TV. Cameras might follow around some blue-blooded family as the nanny tries to corral the youngest children and the Latin-quoting father tries to win influence as a Member of Parliament. Sounds like a laugh.

In completely unrelated news, Jacob Rees-Mogg’s show Meet the Rees-Moggs premiered last night on streaming platform Discovery+.

I watched the first episode – 45 minutes without adverts – and was surprised by how familiar the whole thing felt.

Yes, the titular family are deeply odd. There’s a scene where they get dressed up for a black-tie family dinner, and mum Helena exclaims as the food is brought out: ‘Oh, I say, we’re having something rather nice.’

Jacob, a former Conservative Business Secretary who lost his North East Somerset seat at the July 4 election, shows us around his personal chapel – including a reliquary which features a piece of Thomas More’s hair shirt.

We’re also introduced to a man called Shaun, who is described as a caretaker but might more accurately be a butler, or footman, or manservant. I’m not even sure what the proper term would be in 2024.

When the family celebrates son Anselm’s 12th birthday by attending Boris Johnson’s 60th birthday (yes, this actually happens), it’s Shaun who drives them four hours across the country then sits in a layby eating crisps and watching football on his phone until he gets the call to say they’re done.

So, the Rees-Moggs are not a typical family by any stretch, which explains the production company’s idea to follow them around to see what they get up to.

But there’s still something very typical about the show itself. For one thing, it’s got that same chirpy oboe and plucky violin music that every British documentary uses to mean ‘this person is eccentric and a little silly’.

The dynamics are pretty standard too. Helena is a reality show natural, with a real talent for setting out exposition in her ‘confessional’ moments addressing the camera.

Episode one retreads the election campaign, capturing the moment Jacob watches Rishi Sunak’s initial address to the nation (‘When it rains at a wedding that’s a good omen, so I’m hoping the same is true of a political announcement’) as well as the controversies over D-Day and betting.

All that familiar territory is maybe what makes it so jarring when we’re shown a brief clip of Jacob on Good Morning Britain explaining that he’s against abortion in all circumstances, including rape and incest.

Much of the rest of the show seems designed to convince us that this is the story of a classic English oddball and his curious family life, where we all get to giggle at his struggle to understand modern slang and other aspects of 21st century life.

But that GMB moment reveals there’s a hard edge beneath the quirky exterior, suggesting the one-time top Tory might be a dodgy fit for a cheeky Kardashians-style guilty pleasure show.

Not that there’s much in the way of that anyway. It turns out there isn’t much drama in the privileged life of a man whose net worth is reportedly in nine figures, and who’s not too fussed about being voted out of the job he’s had since 2010.

Maybe it’s worth a watch if you wish the characters of Downton Abbey had access to smartphones and occasionally had members of the public call them a w*nker.

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