The Wrong Mans: James Corden laughing in the face of danger

“You know that what danger doesn’t do is call ahead . . . unless it’s the IRA.”

Can James Corden do it all over again? Image: Getty
 
What makes good television, in the end, often comes down to tone. Everything can be in place –writer, plot, cast, production values – but if the tone of the thing is uneven, careering all over the place like a girl in heels who’s had one too many negronis, then it’s probably sunk from the off.
 
The irony is that more and more television writers lately are turning out these weird hybrids – comedy dramas, mainly –which by their nature are almost certain to be uneven. Why? I’m baffled by it. When I’m crying, I don’t particularly want someone to tickle my chin and when I’m doubled up with laughter, I’d rather not have a bucket of freezing cold water chucked all over me.
 
The Wrong Mans (Tuesdays, 9pm) – awful title klaxon – is just such a hybrid: it’s a comedy thriller in six half-hour episodes by Mat Baynton and James Corden (Baynton was Deano in Gavin and Stacey but is probably best known, though not by me, as one of the stars of the children’s programme Horrible Histories).
 
I didn’t hate it – Baynton and Corden are good comedians and they’ve written themselves some funny lines – but all the same, I’m not sure that it quite works. Thirty minutes seems too short a time to accommodate both the tropes of a thriller and a tonne of jokes. I think they should have given themselves an hour, the better that the audience might get its ear in.
 
Sam (Baynton) and Phil (Corden) are employed by Berkshire County Council. Sam is a “town-planning and noise-guidance adviser”; Phil takes care of the office mail. They are both losers but this doesn’t make them friends, because if there’s one thing the self-respecting loser knows, it’s to stay away from blokes even more pathetic than himself.
 
Phil, who is lonely and a bit deluded, is always trying to be matey with Sam – when he drops off his post, he forces Sam to do the exploding fist bump –but Sam is resistant to his moves, refusing, like everyone else in the office, to sign up for any of the outings that he organises (paintballing, go-karting, curry club).
 
Sam, however, is increasingly vulnerable in the loser stakes. His girlfriend, Lizzie (Sarah Solemani), has dumped him and he is shortly to become embroiled with a bunch of Very Nasty People, having picked up a stray mobile at the scene of a car crash he witnessed. Phil, grasping all this, is about to seize the moment.
 
I liked the small things in this series: the way Phil’s pen is attached to his mail trolley, so that he ends up dragging it (the trolley, I mean) halfway up a wall when he adds Sam’s name to his go-karting list. I laughed out loud when, under pressure in a meeting, Sam came up with the slogan: “If you like James Cracknell, you’ll love . . . Bracknell.” But Phil’s phoney macho act – he’s a softie who still lives with his mum but he knows the script of the movie Fight Club by heart – is wearying after a while.
 
It’s a nice touch that he makes his own sushi, rolling it carefully in the mail room with one of those sheets of bamboo, and I did snigger when he said: “You know that what danger doesn’t do is call ahead . . . unless it’s the IRA.” I still had a weird feeling that Corden was playing a version of himself and it left me feeling slightly ripped off.
 
The series looks wonderful, expensive and moody and there are several amazing cameos in it (David Harewood, late of Homeland, appeared for a few bewildering seconds). All this just seemed rather wasteful in the circumstances: the script somehow doesn’t live up to it.
 
Will The Wrong Mans erase the memory of the ill-fated sketch show Corden made with Mathew Horne, another Gavin and Stacey alumnus? (Before I sat down to write this, I looked up my review of it – “as funny and as puerile as a sixth-form review, only without the benefit of in-jokes about your chemistry teacher’s BO” – and winced all over again.) I’m not sure. He probably does need a hit if he’s to be commissioned again. Then again, Corden has proved himself in so many other realms – onstage, in the right role, he is a genius – that it hardly matters if he isn’t able to turn out TV comedies the way a baker turns out warm loaves.
Can James Corden do it all over again? Image: Getty

Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.

This article first appeared in the 30 September 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The Tory Game of Thrones

Davide Restivo at Wikimedia Commons
Show Hide image

Scientists have finally said it: alcohol causes cancer

Enough of "linked" and "attributable": a new paper concludes that alcohol directly causes seven types of cancer.

I don't blame you if you switch off completely at the words "causes cancer". If you pay attention to certain publications, everything from sunbeds, to fish, to not getting enough sun, can all cause cancer. But this time, it's worth listening.

The journal Addiction has published a paper that makes a simple, yet startling, claim: 

"Evidence can support the judgement that alcohol causes cancer of the oropharynx [part of the throat], larynx, oesophagus, liver, colon, rectum and [female] breast"

So what's especially significant about this? 

First, scientists, unlike journalists, are very wary of the word "causes". It's hard to ever prove that one action directly led to another, rather than that both happened to occur within the same scenario. And yet Jennie Connor, author of the paper and professor in the Preventive and Social Medicine department at the University of Otago, New Zealand, has taken the leap.

Second, alcohol not only causes cancer of one kind – the evidence supports the claim that it causes cancer at seven different sites in our bodies. There was weaker evidence that it may also cause skin, prostate and pancreatic cancer, while the link between mouth cancers and alcohol consumption was the strongest. 

What did we know about alcohol and cancer before?

Many, many studies have "linked" cancer to alcohol, or argued that some cases may be "attributable" to alcohol consumption. 

This paper loooks back over a decade's worth of research into alcohol and cancer, and Connor concludes that all this evidence, taken together, proves that alcohol "increases the incidence of [cancer] in the population".

However, as Connor notes in her paper, "alcohol’s causal role is perceived to be more complex than tobacco's", partly because we still don't know exactly how alcohol causes cancer at these sites. Yet she argues that the evidence alone is enough to prove the cause, even if we don't know exactly how the "biologial mechanisms" work. 

Does this mean that drinking = cancer, then?

No. A causal link doesn't mean one thing always leads to the other. Also, cancer in these seven sites was shown to have what's called a "dose-response" relationship, which means the more you drink, the more you increase your chances of cancer.

On the bright side, scientists have also found that if you stop drinking altogether, you can reduce your chances back down again.

Are moderate drinkers off the hook?

Nope. Rather devastatingly, Connor notes that moderate drinkers bear a "considerable" portion of the cancer risk, and that targeting only heavy drinkers with alcohol risk reduction campaigns would have "limited" impact. 

What does this mean for public health? 

This is the tricky bit. In the paper, Connor points out that, given what we know about lung cancer and tobacco, the general advice is simply not to smoke. Now, a strong link proven over years of research may suggest the same about drinking, an activity society views as a bit risky but generally harmless.

Yet in 2012, it's estimated that alcohol-attributable cancers killed half a million people, which made up 5.8 per cent of cancer deaths worldwide. As we better understand the links between the two, it's possible that this proportion may turn out to be a lot higher. 

As she was doing the research, Connor commented:

"We've grown up with thinking cancer is very mysterious, we don't know what causes it and it's frightening, so to think that something as ordinary as drinking is associated with cancer I think is quite difficult."

What do we do now?

Drink less. The one semi-silver lining in the study is that the quantity of alcohol you consume has a real bearing on your risk of developing these cancers. 

On a wider scale, it looks like we need to recalibrate society's perspective on drinking. Drug campaigners have long pointed out that alcohol, while legal, is one of the most toxic and harmful drugs available  an argument that this study will bolster.

In January, England's chief medical officer Sally Davies introduced some of the strictest guidelines on alcohol consumption in the world, and later shocked a parliamentary hearing by saying that drinking could cause breast cancer.

"I would like people to take their choice knowing the issues," she told the hearing, "And do as I do when I reach for my glass of wine and think... do I want to raise my risk of breast cancer?"

Now, it's beginning to look like she was ahead of the curve. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.