Dear Rosie

"Rosie" (Fiona Victory) is one of those hand-to-mouth writers who makes it big when she writes her armchair guide to slimming. It's a wet dream for her publisher (Terence Wilton) as it flies off the shelves and for her and her young son (Remy Beard), it means a new home and plenty of cash. If you can imagine a life before mobile phones, though, then you'll appreciate that just about all of their correspondence was by letter - and so that's how the narration of this plays out. Not just between them, but between her son and his opportunist school bullies and between her and an array of fans who want to write to tell her of how her words of wisdom helped save their lives, or their marriages or even their sanity. It's that last aspect that begins to affect her more, though, and when her publisher goes bonkers because he can't get in touch it transpires that the fame, adulation and constant mailbag has driven her to deepest Wales where they hope for an anonymity the polar opposite of what she craved just a few months earlier. There's something of the be careful what you wish for to this, and at times the very observational nature of it makes it quite funny, but it suffers from trying to tell too much of a story in too short a time. It could almost be a mini-pilot for a sitcom, as there are a few characters in here - not least her son and her publisher, who could sustain episodes all by themselves and by developing more the relationship between her and a diverse and eclectic readership who appear to have shifted their dependence from food to her, it has scope for something quite apt. Still, it's quite an entertaining watch with plenty of food for thought within the quickly-paced script, but it didn't quite hit the mark for me.