Jizz cocks and piss kidneys

And so another season of Peep Show comes to an end. This is, without a doubt, the single best comedy show to have come out of Britain in the past decade, if not ever. Yes, there I said it. You can take your Monty Pythons and Fawlty Towerses, your Porridges and Young Oneses: we've all seen them one time too many, thanks to the glorious BBC's reruns policy. Peep Show is king, the boss of them all.


No, it's not that kind of peep show.

I could say I was there from the beginning of the first episode, the night it was first aired, but that would just make me sound like a piss kidney. Or a jizz cock. But it's true. Earlier that week, way back whenever it was, Red and I had seen stars Mitchell and Webb on some breakfast TV show, flogging their imminent wares. They showed a clip. "What odd fucking shite is this?" I might have wondered aloud. It looked silly, with it's first-person-POV camerawork. But nothing else was on TV that fateful night, so we gave it a go. It fucking rocked back then, and it still rocks now.

And apparently a fifth season has been commissioned. I'm already finding it difficult to wait. Thank heavens for the DVDs.