This series is not for the faint hearted. And nor is it for those with a "refined" comedic palate. In short, it's definitely not for everyone.
But, for me, it is the funniest show on television. I simply adore the Michael Jackson caricature. To portray him as a foul-mouthed, jive-talkin' brother with his spangly glove, sweatband and Thriller outfit is nothing short of genius. Creator/actor Leigh Francis has MJ followed around by 'Martay' Bashir, is distinctly careless with the baby Blanket and puts a surreal twist on the obsessions of the real-life Wacko (i.e., the fantastic Petay Pan parachute jump). Like Ali G, MJ has quickly gone down in modern comedy folklore.
Craig David, another highlight, has bladder problems, carries around his peregrin falcon Kes and hails from Leeds. David Blaine is sex obsessed and uses his street magic only to fondle the ladies. Mel B (Jim Bowen in a wig) is fabulous, Britney Spears is a drunk and Christina Aguilera a Scouse whore. And all of these celebrities, and many more besides, are wearing ridiculous masks and oversized NHS specs. Totally bizarre yet, when on top form, utterly brilliant.
Having said that, the show is far from perfect. It can get repetitive (especially the now-tiresome Bear), can resort to the overly crude and there are some characters such as Marilyn Manson and Jonathan Ross ("wibble"???) who don't deserve the time of day. Even the host Avid fails to raise a smile on many occasions.
But it is highly quotable (although not always a good thing when a cult show goes mainstream), consistently funny and like nothing you've seen before, or will probably see again.
Sha'mone.
