BBC Three has produced some fine comedy over the years.
One of the recently most lauded shows was the magnificent “This Country,” the tale of two cousins from the rural Cotswolds. The show, written by and starring brother and sister, Charlie and Daisy May Cooper, was a wonderful piece of comedy. There was something very natural achieved by a cast that was largely inexperienced in the craft of acting – in fact, Charlie and Daisy May’s real-life father was also roped in to play Martin Mucklowe, the errant father of daughter, Kerry.
But it has been another offering from BBC Three that really caught my imagination, and is this subject of this blog post.
The show in question is “The Young Offenders” created and written by Peter Foott. I should at this point warn that there may be a few plot lines discussed in this piece so, if you are thinking of watching the show, it is not my intent to spoil it for you.
The sitcom centres around two youthful rogues, Conor and Jock, who are the titular “Young Offenders,” and causers of criminal mayhem throughout Cork in Ireland. Due to various reasons, Jock finds himself living with Conor, and the two come under the charge of Conor’s long-suffering mother, Mairead.
On the face of it, it could easily be another laddish, gross-out comedy, akin to something like “The Inbetweeners,” but I found Conor and Jock had a bit more depth that was very engaging. “The Young Offenders” regularly displayed real and moving human warmth.
When I wrote the novels “Gone to the Dogs” and it’s prequel “Thryke: The Man That Nobody Knew” I was conscious about the juxtaposition between comedy and emotion. Balanced together, each lifts the other to another level.
In reflecting, I thought about other comedies that did this successfully. “Only Fools and Horses” immediately sprang to mind. There are some episodes of this show that are memorable not for the comedy, but for the raw emotion that is put on display. This was a hallmark throughout the run and I genuinely think it was one of the key reasons why OFAH regularly tops polls of the greatest British Sitcoms.
There were many moments of emotion delivered by Del and Rodney. One example is the episode “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” in which Jumbo Mills, an old friend of Del Boy, offers the Trotters the chance of move to Australia to front a luxury car dealership. The real emotional wrench occurs when Rodney’s visa is denied. The drunken exchange between the two brothers, as they argue over whether Del should take the opportunity by himself is very moving and elevates the episode from the ordinary. At various times during the seven series of “Only Fools and Horses,” Del is seen as genuinely self-serving – in this episode he puts family first, turning down the opportunity of a lifetime. We see that there is some real humanity beneath the bling.
I am also reminded of a remarkable episode of “Steptoe and Son,” one of many, called “The Desperate Hours.” Aired in April of 1972, the impoverished Albert and Harold Steptoe, are visited on a cold winter’s night by two escaped prisoners. With not much to offer in the way of food or warmth, this four-handed episode splits beautifully along the generational lines and loyalties that are beautifully crafted by the writers, Galton and Simpson. Son Harold bonds with prisoner Johnny, the younger of the escapees, played by the wonderful Leonard Rossiter. Harold feels he is held back by – but remains dutifully loyal to his father, Albert. Johnny echoes these feelings, having escaped from Wormwood Scrubs with his much older cell-mate, Frank Ferris. Meanwhile, Albert and Frank bond over their fear of abandonment and the guilt of feeling themselves to be burdensome on their younger charges. This guilt manifests in criticisms of the younger men and their seemingly frivolous ways, now devoid of any sense of morality from the old days. The younger offender and his new friend, Harold, it seems don’t have the moral fibre that is ingrained in the older men. In this extraordinary sitcom episode, all four men eventually, and stoically, accept their fate. Johnny and Frank, in their prison uniforms, leave together – with Johny resigned to the knowledge that staying loyal to his mentor with guarantee their swift recapture. Meanwhile, Harold, knowing his future is at his elderly father’s side, remains in his own metaphorical prison, in their “rag and bone” yard, in the cold of Oil Drum Lane.
And so we return to the “Young Offenders,” a modern-day comedy not afraid to offer a liberal sprinkling of emotion. There is one episode in particular that I would like to mention, from the second series. As I say, if you are yet to see these series, now might be a time to look away and I shall thank you for reading this far.
In the third episode of Series Two, Conor discovers that his late father was responsible for painting “the blue dog,” a local landmark adorning a cliff face which overlooks the sea. For me, this episode is as close to perfect as a piece of comedy can be – it has a compelling story, some genuinely funny moments, and pockets of touching human interaction. Interestingly, the episode appears to be based on a true story and a real painted dog.
So much happens in the thirty minutes that it would need a series of blog posts to explore it with any amount of care – which is what the episode deserves. What is clear is that the story stays with you for a long time after you have finished watching, and this is rare – particularly of a comedy show that it would be easy to pass by.
The mural was painted as a tribute to a dog, later revealed to be named Shep, who saved Conor’s father from drowning in the sea below. The motivation for Conor to repaint it would alone be enough to lift this piece of work to something special – but so much more is crammed in. We see the beginnings of a reconciliation between Conor and his estranged girlfriend, Linda. We witness the realisation from Jock as to what his girlfriend, Siobhan’s, pregnancy really means. There is a moment of real tenderness between Mairead and the wonderful Billy Murphy, who are tracking the “Young Offenders” through the wood of a gun-toting landowner, which serves as a short-cut to the mural. In turn, Peter Foott, the creator, offers the chance for the landowner, previously a figure of comedic fear, to deliver a final, emotional reveal.
If you haven’t watched “The Young Offenders,” I would urge you to do so. While I was delighted to see series three running in a prime spot on BBC One, the show, for me, remains tremendously underrated and lacking in the praise it deserves. I think it is a remarkable piece of work, with wonderful writing, fantastic acting and what seems like a genuine warmth between the cast that comes through the screen in abundance.
As a writer, there is much that I could learn about structure, comedy, pathos and emotion. “The Young Offenders” is a great place to start.