I'm with stupid: "awkward über-geek" Dobby flanked by Mark and Jeremy in Peep Show. Photo: Channel 4
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Robert Webb: Peep Show has taught me we need to let women be idiots, too

You hear TV producers sometimes talking about the importance of having “strong female characters”. This is balls, particularly in comedy.

I don’t know about you but I’m a big fan of Peep Show. The ninth and final series of Sam Bain’s and Jesse Armstrong’s award-gobbling sitcom will be filmed next year and I know the experience will be as bitter-sweet as a chocolate liqueur, except less disgusting. It will be as poignant stepping on to the set of the boys’ flat for the last time as it will be watching David Mitchell stoically munching down a fruit salad breakfast so he can treat himself to a cooked one immediately afterwards. Paterson Joseph (Johnson) and I will exchange elaborate apologies for not going to see each other in plays, Matt King (Super Hans) will moan about his costume, Sam and Jesse will be lovely. Long days, knackering and fun. Can’t wait.

But I’ve been thinking about the show for another reason. Lately in these pages, I’ve been preoccupied with matters of gender and masculinity and it occurs to me (probably quite late in the day) that half of my acting career has been built on a show that negotiates these issues every time it opens its mouth. Now, don’t worry, I am not about to offer a feminist critique of a Channel 4 sitcom – that’s why we have GCSE media studies (I got an A!) – but clearly a show that is seen from the point of view of two male characters who exhibit signs of arrested development and whose every contact with women is a disaster waiting to happen might be seen to overlap with notions of “blokiness”, or “laddism”, or, at worst, Dapper Laughs. You’ll understand if, as a father of daughters, I’m quite keen to make a couple of distinctions there.

Do you remember where you were when you first heard that ITV2 was not going to commission a second series of Dapper Laughs: On the Pull? Me neither. If you sneezed at some point in mid-November, you might have missed the whole thing. In summary, Dapper Laughs was a video blogger called Daniel O’Reilly, who got his own show in which he roamed around London being a “proper geezer” with “girth” who told women they were “proper moist” and made jokes about how some women were “gagging for a rape”. Throw in casual homophobia and quips at the expense of homeless people and you get the picture. Complaints were made to Ofcom, Twitter went spare and the show was pulled. O’Reilly turned up on Newsnight to have his jokes read out to him by Emily Maitlis (surely tattooing “cock” on his forehead would have been a kinder punishment?) and that was that.

Except, that isn’t that. Dapper Laughs is gone but his fans are legion and genuinely don’t appear to see what the problem is. Worse, like some of their sweet brethren in the online gaming community for whom a rape threat is a kind of mild rebuke and like the guys in university societies who make up misogynist chants to sing, there’s a pathetic air of persecution. They talk as if threatening women with violence were some kind of free-speech issue. The crowning absurdity is the sorry-assed inadequates of men’s rights activism who point out how the prisons are disproportionately occupied by men and that rates of suicide are disproportionately high among men and decide to blame – wait for it – “feminists”.

No, lads. Feminism is an attack on social practices and habits of thought that keep women and men boxed into gender roles that are harmful. Most of the people in prison are men because men committed most of the crimes: that is at least partly down to the violent expectations of masculinity and “bread-winning” expectations of a patriarchy. Most suicides are male at least partly because the tough-guy requirements of masculinity prohibit sharing our feelings or going to see a therapist. When it comes to comedy in an area such as rape, you need to be pretty clear about where the joke is coming from and who it’s aimed at. O’Reilly claims his character was satirising misogyny and wants to make it clear that he is separate from his character. If that was his intention, he has utterly failed. This was not a satire of masculinity: it was its helpless plaything.

And then, what with this being Britain, there’s class. It should go without saying that there are as many working-class people who hold socially liberal views as there are public-school bigots. Dapper Laughs was not sexist because he was working-class, he was sexist because he was sexist.

As it happens, the two main characters in Peep Show are liberal graduates, written and performed by liberal graduates, but I don’t think it’s especially this that saves the show from “laddishness”. It’s more that Mark and Jeremy don’t belong. They know they ought to be PC; they also think they ought to worship “the gods of Nuts and Zoo”. And they aren’t very good at either.

Then again, there are the female characters. You hear TV producers sometimes talking about the importance of having “strong female characters”. This is balls, particularly in comedy. The female characters in Peep Show are not “strong”: they are idiots. As idiotic as the men. In Men Behaving Badly, a show I enjoyed, Debs and Dorothy were strong, all right, but did they get to be funny? Their function was mainly to walk into a room and go: “Tonyyyyy! Garyyyy! Stop being funnyyyy!”

In Peep Show, there have been Toni (brittle narcissist), Nancy (manipulative American hippie), Big Suze (oblivious posh sadist), Carla (oversexed thief), Merry (certified lunatic), Dobby (awkward, Cheddar-loving über-geek), Elena (bisexual Ukrainian liar), Zahra (pseudo-intellectual bore), Penny (randy jam-making lost cause), Liz (vindictive Christian) and Cally (BlackBerry-obsessed control freak), to name a few. Characters are not people. They can only have one or two things about them and that goes for Mark and Jeremy, too. But to allow the women to be as flawed as the men is to allow them to be equally funny. And, while we’re at it, equally human. 

Robert Webb is a comedian, actor and writer. Alongside David Mitchell, he is one half of the double act Mitchell and Webb, best known for award-winning sitcom Peep Show.

This article first appeared in the 19 December 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Christmas Issue 2014

Martha Kearney. CREDIT: GETTY
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Why Radio 4’s Martha Kearney is the best presenter on the BBC

In Kearney, the BBC has (for once) identified the right star.

“But when you have a regime that’s apparently prepared to use chemical weapons on his own people, doesn’t that add an urgency to it? Isn’t that the need of the avoidance of extreme humanitarian distress?” Martha Kearney speaks to Shami Chakrabati about the bombing in Syria during a Monday morning of interviews while co-presenting her fourth edition of the Today programme (her first was 7 April.)

The way she delivered the word “apparently” encapsulated why she is the best general-purpose presenter the BBC has bar none. She put a faint breath of parenthesis around it, in a way that didn’t sound vetted by lawyers, but perfectly natural. While very characteristic (she is ever the sun rather than the wind, but can burst with an almost-annoyed “hang on!” when interrupting), this was someone instinctively a long way from being aware of their own brand. How freakish a breed the political interviewer generally is. Freakish because of their proximity to a delusion of mattering – a delusion that they “set the agenda”. One could always kind of forgive Jeremy Paxman because he’s just a peculiar, sui generis kind of guy. But Kearney has never been a stymied celebrity or comedian (see Nick Robinson or Eddie Mair) or a wannabe intellectual (see James Naughtie’s more recent interviews with authors. The crenellated frown in his voice, as though this were Gore Vidal talking to Abraham Lincoln.)

Even with the perfectly okay Laura Kuenssberg, you occasionally sense someone who hopes that Meryl Streep might play her in the biopic. Whereas Martha is simply exactly what she wants to be: a presenter of general affairs on radio and TV. In response, Chakrabati was more forthcoming, less thrusting and careerist. More got said. That old Today style of interview is dead. Super-confrontational, internally high-fiving, frankly impolite. It contributed nothing to British society. It made politicians more defensive and bland, entrenched in positions and sowing discord (and equally freakish). They became like footballers, poised to say less and less. The ego of the media has been a key player in the diminishment of British public discourse. But in Kearney the BBC has (for once) identified the right star. 

Today
BBC Radio 4

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 18 April 2018 issue of the New Statesman, Enoch Powell’s revenge