You wait for one good BBC comedy, then four
come along at once.
Over the past few years the iPlayer service
has showcased fresh pilots with the express intention of turning them into sustained
series. From this initiative the acclaimed comedies Sunny D, Man Like Mobeen and
Motherland have emerged. Although
there are normally some duffers amongst the pack, the general quality is high
and I always look forward to watching them.
This year the four shorts feel different.
They feel less like they’re looking for a long-running commission and more like
they’re passion pieces, works of comedic auteurs. The four contributors Tim
Key, Spencer Jones, Sara Pascoe and Nick Helm are all from the alternative
comedy circuit, boasting many Edinburgh prize nominations between them. All
have a unique comic voice that isn’t necessarily tailored to the conventional
sitcom, which might explain why these offerings feel more stand-alone than
sitcom-bait.
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| The Funny Four. |
Sara Pascoe Vs Monogamy
Sara Pascoe is something of a bookworm. Her
stand-up hours are QI episodes put to missionary zeal. Past shows have involved
her talking about evolutionary psychology, female physiology and the science of
love. She is the funny lecturer you wish you had. In the short, she pitches up
to what seems like a date in a wedding dress. This, however, is just a framing
device for her to launch her diatribe on matrimony. Over the course of the
treatise, she argues why monogamy doesn’t work, explaining: ‘If Adam and Eve
couldn’t make it work in paradise, what chance have we got under a Tory
Government.’ There’s references to ‘pair bonding’ and ‘copulatory vocalisation’
to elucidate why men are more likely to stray and why it's in fact women who
enjoy sex more.
It’s a dizzying ten minutes of science and
great lines, but too jam-packed to be my favourite.
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| Sara Pascoe. |
Nick Helm: The Killing Machine
Nick Helm is the bastard love child of
Johnny Vegas and Jack Black. His Edinburgh shows are heartaches on sleeves,
where he’s liable to affect mental breakdown live on stage. In contrast, his
work away for TV dials down the depression and turns the amp up on bitter-sweet
melancholia. His work in the BBC3 sitcom Uncle
was a triumph showing a rock-obsessed loser coming good. In this short he
plays Sam, a down-at-heel story in need of a comeback.
Salvation, he believes, can be found in the boxing ring. Donny his trainer isn’t so
sure. Tired of the New Years Day inductee, Donny doesn’t think Sam will go the
distance; in fact, he’s convinced Sam won’t last more than a session. The
relationship between the pair grows, so soon they’re verbally sparring over
favourite movies- remarkably, Donny hasn’t seen Rocky. The subsequent raising of eye-brows from Sam is a
delight.
Much more conventional than the other
three, this is the one short that could come back for a second round.
 |
| Nick Helm. |
The Mind of Herbert Clunkerdunk
Without the profile of other names Spencer Jones AKA The Herbert has still been
packing them out at Edinburgh. His
underground status is augmented by the rooms he plays: he’s preferred Bob Slayer’s ‘Heroes of the Fringe’ rooms as opposed to Edinburgh’s
main comedy venues, The Big 4. Jones is more from the variety school of comedy than today's university storytellers. Gurning like Cooper and wearing Vic and
Bob surreal, the man quite simply is a lunatic. This ten minutes is a bonkers blitz of inventiveness, boasting
daft songs, fake eye balls and talking letterboxes. For me, it has the visual
flair of The Mighty Boosh, but with
a pure, less affected, humour. Typically I like my comedy wordy and worthy, but
this was a child’s ball pool of chaotic fun.
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| Spencer Jones. |
Tim Key – Wonderdate
Tim Key is a character played by Tim Key. His
Edinburgh shows are something of an event. As he has a movie-makers eye for the
visual, his comic sets are often interspersed with dreamy short films, and his
stage sets have contained beds and baths.
This short was my favourite – not just
because it features my favourite topic: love – but because it had such
confidence in the medium it's working in. Because Key is used to producing
movie vignettes, he has no problem here in turning his current stage show Megadate into abridged television.
The story begins with a man waving goodbye to a woman. The parting will be short-lived
because the date has gone exceedingly well: you can tell because the visuals
are in black and white, the music is retro-Jazz and love hangs in their faces
like Lisa in the Louvre. After kissing his date away, he realises he’s lost his
hat. Agonised (it’s a fucking great hat), he texts the girl in lamentation. She does not reply. He texts again. She does not reply. He texts
again. She does not reply. He … The next day, Key retraces his steps from the
bowling alley to the Thames to the chicken shop to the fairground, searching
for the hat. Along the way he meets characters who saw him the night before,
unconvinced by his assertion that this was a wonderdate. The flashback scenes
are a delight as we see a white-suited Key down a bowling pitcher of ale, and a
Chicken Cottage seduction scene played out to French Jazz.
No one marries high and low art better
than Key. He is the clown priest addressing the faithful with his beer-sodden book
of love. It, therefore, gives me great pleasure to pronounce Wonderdate brilliant.
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| Tim Key. |
The shorts are available here:
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