This deliciously dark sitcom found a recipe for success
Everyone hates dinner parties so why bother dressing up and wasting a decent bottle of red? That was the premise of (Channel 4), the pilot of a prospective new comedy. It’s hard to argue with, especially if you’ve ever poked half-heartedly at something unidentifiable in a ramekin while a booze-flushed stranger drones on about property prices.
Writing duo Sharon Horgan and Dennis Kelly last worked together on underappreciated Noughties sitcom Pulling and have since gone on to solo success: Horgan with the transatlantic romcom Catastrophe, Kelly with sci-fi drama Utopia and Matilda the Musical. Reunited for their first collaboration in a decade, the pair have come up with this gloriously potty-mouthed black comedy of manners.
Main characters Gabe (a hangdog Adeel Akhtar) and Nat (Eva Birthistle, doing her best Horgan impression) had left their idyllic home behind and moved to a new area. Eager to make new friends, they were invited for dinner by some neighbours – cue an awkward evening that descended into accusations, violence, goulash and rum baba.
The hosts were in the midst of a “domestic”, which is putting it mildly. As the wine flowed, so did the insults. Someone eventually accused Gabe of being a Nazi. “I’m not a Nazi,” he protested. “I’ve got Tony Benn’s autobiography.” “Yes, but you haven’t read it, have you?”
The script satirised all the dinnerparty staples: the small talk (“So what do you do?”); the tour of the house (“Utility room. Washer-drier. Combiboiler”); the whispered conflabs about when to leave; the platitudes upon departure (“let’s do this again soon”).
It wasn’t afraid to show some heart, though, acquiring an affecting emotional depth during the final act, thanks to a reconciliation, a revelation and an intimation of mortality. The supporting cast – Victoria Hamilton as the brittle hostess, Tobias Menzies as her sweary, seething husband, plus Paul Ready, Nicola Walker and Desiree Akhavan as other guests – were excellent, subtly imbuing their characters with an unhinged quality that wound up winning your sympathy.
The simplicity of the “sit” – couple attend a different dinner party each week, hilarious consequences ensue – would lend itself perfectly to a full series. Let’s hope The Circuit gets one. Now please pass the goulash. You must give me the recipe.
Class of ’92: Still Out of Their League (BBC One) was a twopart update on last year’s surprisingly absorbing documentary series, which followed five former Manchester United stars in their new role as rookie owners of local nonleague club Salford City FC.
The part-timers miraculously won promotion last time out but were now struggling. Star striker Gareth Seddon was out injured for months and when he eventually returned to action, he’d lost his goalscoring touch. The club couldn’t sign a replacement. Games were lost. The pitch flooded. Tempers frayed. Pressure mounted.
The rags-to-riches story wasn’t as dramatic this time, though – like the team, it too seems to be suffering from “second season syndrome”. Turning an ailing club around is an all-or-nothing narrative. Maintaining its momentum isn’t quite as compelling.
The class of ’92 themselves – Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Nicky Butt, Phil and Gary Neville – were rarely sighted but that didn’t matter too much, since it’s the more humble characters who made the initial series so engaging. The dressing room was all industrialstrength swearing, bare bottoms and bad tattoos.
Seddon prepared for life after football by buying a cheese shop called The Mouse Trap. If it runs half as long as its West End namesake, it’ll be a business miracle. Seddon didn’t seem cut out for a career in fromagerie. “I hate strong cheese,” he confessed. “It’s like sick on a cracker.”
The star of the show, though, was long-suffering tea lady Babs. Despite having worked on a voluntary basis for 26 years, she still flipped burgers and filled tea urns with indefatigable good cheer. When Salford’s tiny stadium was swamped by a sell-out crowd for a televised FA Cup game, she kept up morale by donning comedy wigs.
Babs was furious when food inspector jobsworths paid a surprise visit and rated her humble catering facilities one out of five for hygiene. For the next three months, she worked long hours, slaved over Health & Safety paperwork and hauled up her rating to a perfect five. She celebrated by buying a new bain-marie. When the pie and chips were down, Babs rose to the occasion. If only she could play football, too. The Circuit ★★★★ Class of ’92: Still Out of Their League ★★★