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What is it like to be a woman stuck in a toxic workplace? Well, let me put it this way — you can literally jump out of a plane for your domineering boss and get blamed when the parachute breaks. And no, this is not a metaphor.
Don't get me wrong — Rivals is a rare show that offers an increasingly rare treat: true, unbridled, fun escapism. An adaptation of Jilly Cooper's novel of the same name from her joyous bonk-fest series The Rutshire Chronicles, Rivals is a sun-drenched, synth-fuelled romp through the 1980s Cotswolds; a rip-roaring fever dream of towering shoulder pads and blue eyeliner that practically oozes with the smell of hairspray and cigarette smoke. But just beyond the hazy veil of seductive smoke and hairspray, you'll find some rather sobering home truths — particularly when it comes to women at work.
Season 2, which lands today on Disney+, picks up half-way through the story. Sir Tony Baddingham (David Tennant) is desperately trying to cling onto control of the south west ITV franchise, currently being run by his company Corinium. However, a new company, helmed by Tony's bitter rivals Tory MP Sir Rupert Campbell-Black (Alex Hassell), socialist presenter Declan O'Hara (Aidan Turner) and tech whiz Freddie Jones (Danny Dyer), is bidding for the franchise.
In season 1, Corinium was already a rather toxic, sexist workplace — Daysee's (Lara Peake) horrific treatment following a sexual assault at work was case and point. In season 2, as tensions ramp up for Tony, Corinium becomes downright hostile to its female employees. As previously mentioned, we have the long-suffering, long-ignored Deirdre (Bryony Hannah) who Tony forces to jump from a plane — she nearly dies, but Tony's only concern is the embarrassment caused by his failed PR stunt. Then there's Sarah Stratton (Emily Atack), a Corinium presenter who Tony attempts to blackmail into an abortion. Cameron Cook (Nafessa Williams), Tony's former protegée and mistress, finds herself in literal hiding from the vengeful director of Corinium, before he manipulates her back into the fold.
Let's return to Rutshire for more naughty antics.
Of course, Rivals is set 40 years ago in the world of TV — an industry notorious for its rampant sexism and toxicity, particularly back then. Things have changed! Or so we like to think. But while most of us probably don't have abusive bosses who push us out of planes or threaten us into getting abortions, the world of Corinium remains eerily, disturbingly familiar.
Because it isn't just Tony and his nefarious exploitation and manipulation that makes the workplace hard for these women — in fact, what is perhaps even harder to endure is the subtle daily grind of facing the little sexist microagressions from almost everyone else.
When Deirdre isn't tumbling out of a plane, she finds herself rudely passed over by almost all of her male colleagues — seemingly because she doesn't have a ‘look’ they are interested in. With her dated frilly collars, big glasses and pixie cut, she is perpetually ignored, undermined and under appreciated, despite being one of the most dedicated employees in the building. She seems doomed to a career without much respect — and certainly without promotion.
The other women in the office realise that Deirdre's fate could easily be their own unless they play their cards right. Sarah is smart enough to know that using her sexuality is a sure-fire way to get ahead. She has a particularly rough (though all-too common deal), with a husband at home expecting further unpaid domestic labour — an elaborate home-cooked meal on the table every night and chef-level party hosting for his friends. Meanwhile, Cameron is something of a pre-Y2K girlboss. Instead of using her sexuality alone, she adopts the aggressive, bullish tactics of her blustering male colleagues to secure her rare position of prominence in the company. If you can't beat them, you join them, she seems to think.
While all of this may seem foreign to us today (and I hope it does!), for many women, the sexism of the workplace in Rivals will undoubtedly come with an uncomfortable sting of recognition. In fact, a 2026 survey of 2,000 UK female employees found that 66% claim to have experienced patronising behaviour from male colleagues. A further seven in ten claiming they have been spoken over by a male colleague, while over half reported being dismissed in the workplace. It all feels very Deirdre-coded. Then there are the nearly four in ten who said they have felt the need to downplay their femininity in order to be taken seriously, a la Cameron Cook. There's also the 2025 UN report that found that women still work longer, while earning just a third of what men earn per hour once both paid and unpaid domestic labour are taken into account, which has an eery echo of Sarah's plight this season.
So, while the shoulder pads and hairspray and blue eyeliner may, thankfully, be a thing of the past, the workplaces and ingrained work patterns made primarily for and by men remain. And Rivals serves as a timely reminder — we may not have come quite as far as we like to think.
From David Bowie to Sade to Joy Division, it's party time in the Cotswolds.
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