Quincy lent me The League of Gentlemen which I spent much of yesterday and today watching my way through. I managed to miss it when it was first on telly probably because of one of the more irritating features of cable TV – I couldn’t watch one programme and video another. I must admit the canned laughter in the earlier episodes was annoying and artificial. It seems all right when the action is based solely in a studio, but when it’s done on location, a laugh track seems unrealistic and forced.
The series is about the remote village of Royston Vasey, a place populated by grotesques from the homocidal inbred local shopkeepers whose merchandise is only available to local people to the vet who kills every animal he treats to the transsexual taxi driver to the butcher who’s selling something under the counter to certain select customers to the toad-obsessed people who live according to obsessively finicky rules and regulations to the etc. I knew I’d get to see The League of Gentlemen eventually; now I have; bloody good thing too.
Now that I’ve seen the series, I must watch the film again because it’ll make much more sense.