One’s Ann Droid gives Sue Johnston a sharp, sad-eyed centre as a widow recovering from a sprained wrist with her arm in a sling. The review treats Diane Morgan’s Linda as more than a gadget: this is a comedy built on care, grief and the low-grade indignities of being looked after.
Sue and Linda
Sue became widowed two years ago after David died, and the review keeps that loss present without turning it into a speech. She is discharged from hospital with her wrist still injured, then handed a preloved Ann Droid robot carer on a 24-month contract, which makes the arrangement feel less like a perk than a service agreement with rules attached.
Linda does the practical work. She reminds Sue to take her medication and lays out social activities to stave off isolation and depression, giving the show a clear care function as well as a comic one. The setup is useful because it turns the robot into a household service rather than a gimmick, with the contract and the internet link acting like the real terms of the arrangement.
AI and
Linda is also written with friction. The robot is useless without an internet connection, yet she is still described as considerate, compassionate and lovable, which gives the comedy its charge. That mix is the point of the review: the machine can be unreliable and still feel emotionally useful to the person receiving care.
The series pushes that contradiction further through a scene in which Linda uses her laser-beam eyes to taser the Brazilian jiu-jitsu instructor who slept with Michael’s wife, then explains, “I used a low amperage”. Michael himself is moving back in with his cheating ex and has joined a drug trial for quick cash, which keeps the household in a mess of bad options while the robot tries to impose some order.
Roxy and Keith
Michelle Greenidge appears as Brianna, who calls the home “lethal”, and Sue tries to deflect the risk by saying she merely had “have a fall”. Around them, the review folds in other bots such as Roxy and Keith, plus Phyllis and Eileen, to widen the world without losing the focus on Sue’s private adjustment.
Diane Morgan’s Linda is also the kind of device that only works if the writing keeps moving. It can wink at The Apprentice and Cotton Eye Joe, but the stronger business is emotional: a robot that starts as a product and ends up as a companion. That is why the review lands on Sue Johnston’s performance — she makes the contract feel temporary, while the grief underneath it is not.
The open question is the one that matters: how Sue and Linda will develop beyond the first episode. For now, One has a comedy that treats AI care as both service and compromise, and it does so through a widow who needs the help more than she wants to admit.
