Somebody save us, please, from “hip,” “sophisticated” dramas about overprivileged, self-absorbed yuppies whining about how miserable their lives are. Here, it’s whiny Brits whining about how they’re not having sex, or if they are having sex how they can’t get pregnant, or if they do have babies how they can’t find a nanny, and would they all just please shut the fuck up? This ITV series has been inundated with awards — especially for supremely annoying stars James Nesbitt (Bloody Sunday) and Helen Baxendale — but then so has the intolerable American series Friends, to which it is frequently likened. The six episodes-plus-pilot included in this set (with “bonus” promotional-fluff extras) comprise an insufferable orgy of navel-gazing and crybabying consumed with the kind of minutiae of everyday life that is bad enough to have to deal with in everyday life, and now we have to see it on TV? Arguing over who does the ironing? Over who cleans the pubic hair from the soap in the shower? Ewww.