Gap Year

Establishing shot of an airplane in the sky. Camera then pans to inside where three travellers wait for the toilet.

Sam: A what! A lads holiday in China, why are you doing that?

Sean: Well he's been away at uni for a year. So we thought we'd just have a catch up. And he's been dumped.

Sam:   Sorry that’s not what I meant. I meant why China?

Sean: I don't really mind where we go. As long as we get smashed, soak up some sun, meet some girls. 

Sam: No, you’re not going to get to do that.

Dylan: What do you mean? 

Sam: This is what I do. I’m a travel writer. Trust me when I say, China is not right for you. This is not ideal, hearing about this right now, on the plane. Sorry about that. But you have made a mistake. Unless you’re going for a reason that I’m not aware of.

Dylan: No, of course not. We just wanted to do something different. Out there. We didn’t want to fall into the same old tourist traps as everyone else.

Sam: But you will though. You’ll find them.

Sean: What’s them? Who’s them?

Sam: Everyone else. The kids exactly like you. It’s like two dung beetles on top of a pile of lion poop. And one says to the other ‘fancy meeting you here.’ You know?

Sam and Dylan: No.

Sam: You’re all into exactly the same shit. Anyway fellars I hope that your friendship still functions in a different context. In my experience it won’t. And enjoy Thailand.

Sean: But we’re not going to Thailand.

Sam: You will though.

On the plane.

The opening exchange to Gap Year is prophetic: Sam, the travel writer, a flaneuse by trade, appreciates that foreign life can be difficult. People go with the right intentions, wanting to immerse themselves in a life that is not their own, but soon find language and custom barries make assimilation impossible. So what do they do? They fall back into their old life, seeking out people and places that are familiar and comforting. Also, travelling with a friend is not the same as socialising: it’s a marriage of co-dependency that can leave both parties feeling stymied and suffocated. In the best case scenario some time apart can rekindle the relationship; in the worst, one snaps, serving the other divorce papers citing 'irreconcilable differences.'  The only time I have ever argued with friends is when I’ve been on holiday with them – and that was only for a few days. Even if you live with mates, there’s always a room you can escape to and breathe. When you’re walking the city with others, having to make choices on what you do and where to go, tensions will arise; conflict will ensue.

Dylan and Sean are friends reunited, classmates that have been kept apart by university. Sean hasn’t been to uni, preferring to pursue the trade of plumbing. Dylan, a philosophy student, is well on the way to his BSc. For Sean the trip is a holiday, an opportunity to trade smokes and jokes with a pal. Dylan, on the other hand, sees the trip as something more noble, more worthy, an 18th century Grand Tour that will announce his intellect on the world stage. Cocooned in the bubble of university, his pretension is yet to be pricked.

Dylan and Sean.

Like Macbeth on the heath, the boys scoff at Sam's prediction, vowing to press on and paint China - well, more- red. Arriving, Sean suggests they find a watering hole; a proposal soon squashed by Dylan whom is on the lookout for a more authentic experience They don’t have long to wait. Stopping for the loo they encounter China’s squat toilets. This taste of culture isn't what Dylan had in mind. So with a heave and a hightail they make their way to Costa Coffee. Whilst Dylan sits in the toilet cubicle monitoring ‘Map My Run,’ Sean waits outside with Greg, an awkward Brit, played brilliantly by Tim Key.  Greg is from the David Brent school of interaction, appearing wholly humane whilst being a complete buffoon. Over the course of the series his eccentricities become more endearing, so much so that he'll eventually become the show's beating heart.

Greg played by the brilliant Tim Key.

Greg is unlike other British travellers. He is pushing forty, in age and waist. His boasts of where he’s been, therefore smack off sadness, not arrogance. His pleasure in travelling with two girls (“we're a threesome”) is soon discounted when Sean walks outside and finds them attempting to abscond. Laden with bags, Greg is another piece of baggage they could do without. Sean, the Everyman, argues his case and the girls are stuck with him. In time Dylan and Sean will rejoin ‘the threesome’ where they’ll succumb to Sam’s prediction by discovering what all travellers find: all roads lead to Thailand.

The gang.

Tom Basden, the writer and creator of Gap Year, has done a sterling job at marrying humour and pathos. Critics got their claws out early, complaining that the show lacked laughs and depth. Like Fresh Meat, which Basden wrote for, the drama just needed time to bed in. Take that opening exchange for example, Basden was plotting Dylan and Sean's fall-out from the start; viewers just need to let the writers peel away the pretensions of the characters, trusting the juicy bits will come.

I’ve really enjoyed Gap Year; I think it brilliantly captures the strain it puts on old friendships, along with the excitement gained in making new ones. I remember when I went on a TopDeck tour after finishing my teacher training degree. Despite being averse to anything that takes me away from the BBC, I felt that I had to travel in order to qualify for adulthood. Initially on the trip, I was disappointed to find that I’d been allocated a coterie of dunderheads: many of the Aussie lads on board seemed to confuse the coach for Attenborough’s The Hunt, a battleground, where all males were threats to their female quarry. To remove me from the mating game, I was ‘accused’ of being gay- grounds? quietness and literacy. Fortunately, I would find other people that I got on with, which made the experience worthwhile.

I went on one of these holidays. Imagine the banter of being on a coach with the guy from the front. Imagine...

This illustration proposes that travelling is rarely about places, but people. In one telling moment in Gap Year Dylan looks at The Great Wall of China and asks, “How long am I supposed to look at it for?” Shrines, sites and wonders are brilliant, but that's never a question we would direct at our friends. I could make eye contact with the beauties forever and a day. Ultimately, Gap Year is an honest reflection on travelling: buildings are great, but people are better.   

The Gap Year box-set is available on Channel 4's On Demand service.