It’s certainly not for the squeamish (From Bucks Free Press)

It’s certainly not for the squeamish

11:08am Monday 22nd June 2009

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BETWEEN 1999 and 2002 The League of Gentlemen provided the British TV-watching public with hilarity and horror in equal measure in one of the most disturbing TV comedies of all time.

It wasn’t for everyone – certainly not the squeamish – but as far as I’m concerned the three BBC Two series, set in the comically grotesque hellhole of Royston Vasey, may be one of my favourite comedies of all time.

So I’ve been waiting for some time to see what they would come up with next (I’m not counting the slightly disappointing foray into the film-world with their 2004 League movie).

Psychoville only comes from two members of the four-strong League – Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton. But the first episode alone dealt with seven years of withdrawal symptoms from their brand pitch black and twisted comedy in one fell swoop.

The title itself is a bit of an in-joke – Psychoville was the name given to the League’s earlier series by Japan and Korea. It also seems to neatly sum up the mindset behind this latest offering.

So far it’s not clear quite what is going on – just that a bunch of apparently unconnected freaks and lunatics have been sent mysterious letters proclaiming “I know what you did.”

There’s Dawn French’s barmy midwife, who is alarmingly obsessed with her demonstration doll, the plastic ‘Freddie Fruitcake. There’s a blind reclusive millionaire with a collection of cuddly toys and a childlike lunatic with a serial killer obsession who makes a grisly foray into the world of dinner party murder mysteries in episode one. Then there’s a telekinetic dwarf and – best of all – sinister children’s entertainer Mr Jelly and his hundred hands. In fact, of course, he only has 16 hands really, and they are prosthetic limbs brought about, apparently, by the dreadful consequences of his rivalry with fellow kiddies entertainer, Mr Jolly. Most of the time Jelly just sticks to a good old hook.

He also took the best line of the week, as one horrified parent double checked her booking to make sure the grotesque clown at her doorstep really was a children’s entertainer. “No,” he retorted. “I’m Harold Shipman.”

It’s pretty grim stuff, but shot through with the same kind of twisted comic gems that made The League so much fun. Imagine Monty Python filtered through the grisly likes of The Wicker Man and you’re half-way there.

Psychoville certainly isn’t for all tastes, but for those who enjoy their comedy on the black side, it’s an absolute treat.

It’s also not afraid to try and leave us with an intriguing mystery to follow throughout the series, a bit of drama and some surprisingly effective pathos – you have to feel a bit sorry for Dawn French’s clearly long suffering husband in the show.

Where it’s all going, and how the characters are connected is impossible to say, but it’s pretty clear things will be getting a fair bit uglier yet.

Pemberton and Shearsmith are, there is little doubt, a pretty sick pair who probably ought to get psychiatric help at the earliest opportunity. Still, until they do, we should all sit back and savour the next six episodes of this delightfully twisted offering.

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