I’ll point out right away that I love The League of Gentlemen. I watched the first series, at the time and many times subsequently, and loved it. The second series caused me some dismay as Papa Lazarou scared the living daylights out of me.
Side note: I’ve been watching the repeats of The League of Gentlemen on the iPlayer with Aimée, who was far too young to watch it the first time round. She watched me when Papa Lazarou appeared on-screen, saw me wincing and sliding further down my seat and, seemingly, made a mental note.
A few days later, coming in after a long shift at the shop, she tells me that she called out a ‘hello’. I didn’t hear her. As she popped her head round the corner and into the kitchen, she said, ‘Hello, Dave,’ and I nearly died. Tragically, my version of that line is almost as good as the real thing and it makes me worry for my own mind.
Moving swiftly on from Papa Lazarou…
I adore Edward and Tubbs.
Yes, they’re grotesques. They like things local and under control. They have a son who starts out normal but turns into a monster. And every time they do a stock-count, the number of items on the shelf is always – twelfty. But it’s that joyous thing – catchphrase humour. Catchphrase humour makes everyone feel comfortable. You know what to expect, but it’s still funny, because it’s familiar.
It’s all in the performance.