Dear In With The Flynns, (BBC1, Weds @8.30pm)
I’m just writing to welcome you, the eponymous Flynns, to the neighbourhood and to tell you how much I enjoyed your first little romp on that box in the corner of the room I stare at way too much. In the interests of clarity I should really tell you straight away that I didn’t enjoy it because of what was happening on-screen – that was far more akin to how I would imagine farmers feel when having to slaughter and burn their cattle amidst a foot and mouth epidemic: Namely their cattle (in this case BBC comedy) who they love and rely on for sustenance, being killed off because a virulent disease (in this case contagious ineptitude) has affected others far away (BBC commissioners) and I was having to pay the price. When farmers lose an entire flock or herd to the whim of government officials they are at least compensated. There is no such compensation for me, I have to pay the price – and what a price it is – for the folly of others year on year. Regardless, thrill me it did and, if you’ll bear with me for a little while, I’ll explain precisely why.
Coward or realist? Okay, coward, but something of a role model for me.
Ever since ascending from childlike innocence and it’s connected indestructibility I have been something of a coward. That’s not to say that i shy away from confrontation – far from it, someone as opinionated as myself must thrive on it or surround themselves with lackeys who agree with every word they utter – I have neither the charm or good looks required to achieve this, and even if I did I would probably end up so desperate for an argument that I’d make statements impossible to back up without appearing either bigoted or insane. I believe that’s how The Daily Mail began. Any way, the point remains that when faced with a physical challenge I am prone to massive cowardice: In a fight I’m the fastest runner; if playing cricket I’m scared of the ball (and the bat for that matter, and don’t get me started on the boundary rope…); and my idea of an ‘extreme sport’ is watching football whilst also needing a wee. I think you get the point. I’m a wuss.
What on earth does this have to do with you though Flynns? These gibberings of a lily livered jellyfish? Well I’ll tell you.
You see, like many other cowards I get many of my thrills vicariously. I watch The X-Games, Deadliest Catch and America’s Most Extreme Mentalists and marvel at the bravery of all involved as they risk their lives for their own excitement, filthy great wedges of money and the entertainment of others, hiding behind my fingers as some dolt who’s already lost a hand to a snow blower or some such attempts to do a back flip off a mountain and land on the rail of a helicopter hovering in the valley below. These people impress, amaze and bewilder me in equal measure as they throw themselves undaunted into these incredible feats – they talk of a lust for life that I can only dream of, and they will undoubtedly die quickly from massive ‘failed parachute induced squashing’ whilst I will die slowly and miserably from Butterkist induced diabetes. Basically these people are better than me. I know it, they know it and now you know it. Thanks to you, however, I moved a step closer to their world of daredevilry.
You see whenever you watch some bronzed God called Chad leap from a moving train onto the back of a passing lion and then onto a half-pipe they always say the same thing: “Every cell in my body was screaming at me not to do it, but I just had to.” and up until last Wednesday evening I didn’t know what they meant.
I do now.
All the signs were there for your show:
- It occupied the cursed ‘Nicholas Lyndhurst’ week nights at 8:30 slot, a place where comedy goes to kill itself and piss poor scripts provide plentiful ammunition.
- It was a BBC ‘family’ comedy, meaning it was both about families and for families, putting it immediately in such company as the started well but outstayed its welcome by about 6 years My Family, the didn’t even start well so how has this debacle made it to three series Life of Riley and the too awful for any words to do it any sort of justice final nail in Jasper Carrot’s comedy coffin that was All About Me
- It was based on hit and miss, miss, miss, miss, miss, glancing blow US show Grounded for Life which itself rarely scaled beyond the dizzying heights of mediocrity
- It starred Jambo from Hollyoaks.
Jambo was as perplexed as the rest of us when told he'd make a career in comedy
To describe Will Mellor (for he is the artist forever to be known as Jambo) as a comedy ‘star’ is to demonstrate a profound misunderstanding of the cosmos, you see our Jambo is a massive star, but one that has collapsed in upon itself to form a singularity – a stellar even more commonly known as a black hole. From the comedic black hole that is Will Mellor nothing can escape, no laughs, giggles or titters – his pull is so strong that even smirks are quickly turned into scowls of pain and derision. The man is a comic vacuum almost beyond compare – I say almost because to the best of my knowledge Andi Osho, Andy Parsons and Patrick Kielty are all still alive and stealing a living in ‘comedy’. I would have thought that you’d have known about this. He’s ‘starred’ in approximately sixteen thousand episodes of the Beebs perpetual humour void Two Pints of Lager and a Packet
Never seen Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps - this photo is equally funny and far less time-consuming
of Crisps and then there was the recent reminder in the form of clearly they’ve reached the point where they’ll commission anything shitcom White Van Man, a show so devoid of comic moments it made you yearn for the good old days of Two Pints. It’s probably unfair to focus on him, because despite his lengthy experience with the laughably titled BBC Comedy Department he’s never been given a script anywhere north of God awful to work with, but equally after this latest deposit in the bank of work you can’t really want to tell people about it’s probably fair to describe him as ‘The New Nicholas Lyndhurst’ – only he lacks the saving grace of starring in one of the best sitcoms ever. He aspires to be as bad as Nicholas Lyndhurst. Dear God.
Free Climbers - too scared to watch 'In With the Flynns'
PS – Seriously, how many licence fees have gone directly to Will Mellor?
PPS – I only ask because it seems like a lot
PPPS – You know, like sufficient to fund an entire new series of sketch shows starring really promising comedians
PPPPS – Or a series of sitcom pilots written by people who haven’t already had multiple opportunities. Just a thought.
I would think the Beeb would have learned about mediocre comedy by now. Why is it that they’re dithering over whether or not to air the follow-ups to ‘The Night Shift’ on BBC-4, an Icelandic series that had more about it in 6 Icelandic-language, subtitled episodes than the entire series of My Family ever achieved?