We Might Regret This, the BBC comedy‑drama co-created by Lee Getty and Kyla Harris, returns for a second season on 25 February. The show—part sharp sitcom, part intimate drama—follows a fiercely loyal friendship and explores disability, queer‑platonic bonds and the messy, practical work of care. Getty and Harris say the new episodes keep the first season’s blend of broad laughs and unflinching emotional honesty.
From a small, personal project to a full series
What began as a low‑budget, friendship‑led experiment gradually grew into television by way of word‑of‑mouth, festival attention and early critical buzz. The creators and cast describe the show as candid but compassionate, foregrounding everyday caregiving and the subtle power dynamics inside close relationships.
Friendship as engine
At the centre is Freya (played by co‑creator Kyla Harris), a tetraplegic artist juggling dating, public attention and daily care needs. Her dependence on a close friend who also acts as her assistant sits at the heart of the story—structuring plotlines and providing the emotional pulse. While there’s a romantic thread between Freya and Abe (Darren Boyd), the series deliberately gives equal weight to non‑romantic intimacy. Jo, Freya’s chaotic, fiercely protective best friend, is played by Elena Saurel; together they illustrate chosen family in all its complicated, tender forms.
Getty and Harris drew on their own history—meeting at film school in Vancouver and bonding as outsiders—to shape that chemistry. Long shoots, marathon edits and collaborative rewrites strengthened their shared taste and purpose; they’ve treated their partnership more like the show’s foundation than a production byproduct.
What season two digs into
The new season deepens questions about autonomy, interdependence and public image. It threads a wedding storyline through debates about marriage, career pressures and the often competing demands of personal desire and professional obligation. Freya’s agents—an eccentric duo called The Olivias—pull her into a disability‑inclusion campaign that complicates private choices with publicity and commerce.
The production also pushed its formal ambitions. One sequence was filmed from a wheelchair user’s point of view on an aeroplane; another staged a pool scene to show a tetraplegic body in water with technical accuracy. Both required bespoke staging and extra resources—choices the team said were non‑negotiable because they aimed to represent lived experience rather than simplify it.
Practical craft gains
Longer collaborative sessions tightened dialogue and compressed story arcs; editors report smoother handoffs from assembly to fine cut, which saved time in late‑stage edits. Extended on‑set rehearsal gave performers room to find small, consistent throughlines that read as honest in performance. The creative alignment produced leaner scripts and clearer scene objectives—changes that also improved scheduling and budget predictability.
Casting: continuity and new faces
Most of the principal ensemble returns: Kyla Harris, Darren Boyd and Elena Saurel are back, alongside Edward Bluemel as Levi and Sally Phillips as Jane. New additions broaden the world—Sophie Thompson turns up as an unconventional bridal designer and Jessie Mei Li joins in a supporting role. The team prioritised actors with lived experience for scenes demanding physical authenticity, adjusting rehearsal and technical schedules and shaping promotional outreach toward communities invested in disability representation.
Representation, craft and advice for writers
Season two continued to embed consultation with advocacy groups into development. That input influenced character detail, on‑set accessibility and how outreach to disability communities was handled. For writers and producers the message was practical: bring lived‑experience consultants into the room early, build accessibility into the schedule, and keep character agency central. Sensitivity reads, staged workshops and iterative script reviews—paired with clear metrics for community engagement—help balance dramatic risk with ethical responsibility.
Production realities and wellbeing
Making a show that foregrounds underrepresented experiences carries cost and logistical overheads: accessible sets, specialist consultants and longer development timelines all add budget pressure. The team said securing commissioners willing to underwrite those costs before proof of concept remains a recurring challenge. Creators and producers recommended tracking both audience engagement and operational metrics—retention on platforms, qualitative feedback from representative viewers, consultant hours and accessibility compliance—to make the business case for investment.
From a small, personal project to a full series
What began as a low‑budget, friendship‑led experiment gradually grew into television by way of word‑of‑mouth, festival attention and early critical buzz. The creators and cast describe the show as candid but compassionate, foregrounding everyday caregiving and the subtle power dynamics inside close relationships.0
From a small, personal project to a full series
What began as a low‑budget, friendship‑led experiment gradually grew into television by way of word‑of‑mouth, festival attention and early critical buzz. The creators and cast describe the show as candid but compassionate, foregrounding everyday caregiving and the subtle power dynamics inside close relationships.1
From a small, personal project to a full series
What began as a low‑budget, friendship‑led experiment gradually grew into television by way of word‑of‑mouth, festival attention and early critical buzz. The creators and cast describe the show as candid but compassionate, foregrounding everyday caregiving and the subtle power dynamics inside close relationships.2