Jamie Dyer writes about the 1980s sitcom The Young Ones from his perspective as a Millennial.
To a certain generation, this article may initially seem controversial. Until recently, I had never seen a full episode of The Young Ones…I can hear the cries from here! How could I, a millennial, have missed such a pivotal moment in comedy? For a start, I wasn’t born. Secondly, my household growing up wasn’t nostalgic for the alternative comedy scene, so the show just passed me by. Anything I did happen to see didn’t appeal to me, as I had no context.
My firsthand experience with alternative comedy was like catching the sharp fragments that burst forth from the 1980s with a vengeance. Many of the names who appeared in The Young Ones were household names in the 90s and 00s, mainstream performers with a string of successes on television and film. My wife frequently mentions Drop Dead Fred which features Rik Mayall. Occasionally, I bring up Adrian Edmondson’s various endeavours, such as the occasion when I witnessed him performing Punk songs in a Folk style with his band, The Bad Shepherds.
Neither of us had watched The Young Ones. Our vague familiarity with the characters stemmed from their 1986 charity collaboration on Living Doll with Cliff Richard. We found the video amusing, yet it was our sole point of reference. After going down a YouTube rabbit hole of watching interviews with Jennifer Saunders, our curiosity for the anarchic sitcom was piqued. My wife and I resolved to watch all the episodes of the series, and I’m pleased we did. We discovered numerous aspects of the show that were unexpectedly enjoyable to us.
What is The Young Ones?
The Young Ones began airing on BBC Two in 1982. It ran for 12 episodes over 2 series until 1984. The cast included Adrian Edmondson, Rik Mayall, Nigel Planer, Christopher Ryan, and Alexei Sayle. This anarchic sitcom follows four dishevelled students—Vyvyan, Rik, Neil, and Mike—living in a squalid house, combining surreal humour and slapstick comedy with satirical commentary on youth culture and politics of the 1980s.
Alongside the five main cast members, there were a number of additional guest performers, many of which went on to other things. Names include Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, Chris Barrie, Emma Thompson, Stephen Fry, Mark Arden, Griff Rhys Jones, Robbie Coltrane, Helen Lederer and many more.
The Journey from Reluctance to Adoration: Discovering The Real Young Ones
I’d always steered clear of this show, thinking it was stupid. It seemed like just half an hour of comedy icons whacking each other with mallets and yelling insults. It also appeared to be the show where a punk-esque character tears into The Good Life’s opening credits in a moment of defiance, a baffling act when viewed out of context. My perception of the show was shaped by the talking head shows on Channel 5. These offer brief insights into a program that demanded an “all or nothing” approach. It was only when I looked past the surface that the show began to truly come alive.
The sheer anarchic energy that everyone raves about was nothing more than the tip of the iceberg. I wasn’t expecting to find well-observed characters whose use of over-the-top physical and verbal comedy creates a tapestry of political and cultural points. Heavy!
The Characters
Once you grasp the concept of these students still being children, it adds a whole other layer. Edmondson’s Vivian is the perfect embodiment of a young child who expresses himself through shouting obscenities, destroying things and being constantly bored. Initially annoying, I grew to love him because of his unexpected intelligence. I met so many people like him during my student years, who kept up a pretence until they realised it wasn’t necessary.
The same could be said for Rik, a self-conscious rebel who only wants to fit in. I identified with his struggle to be liked, and the slight guilt over his uncool interests. Mayall’s Sniveling characterisation hits the nail perfectly, showing more complexity than the surface would have you believe.
Neil, a throwback hippy type, is quite possibly one of the greatest comedy creations. You can’t help but feel sorry for him, he seems the most genuine of them all. All he desires is to be listened to, yet he rarely gets it. It’s no wonder the character, and Planer himself, were highly sought after once the series ended.
Mike, played by Christopher Ryan, is a bit of an odd one out. He’s more mature than the others, kind of like a father figure, yet clearly isn’t. It can be easy to dismiss Mike as he doesn’t partake in as much physical action, but he occasionally comes out with some cracking lines.
Alexei Sayle makes regular appearances as members of the same family. He bounds halfway through the show and usually takes things on a miscellaneous tangent. I found him frustrating at first, as he seemed unconnected, but then I found myself waiting for him to appear.
Rating the Series
Something that I wasn’t expecting, was that each series of episodes would chart a progression. Series one feels like a show trying to find out how far it can push the envelope. They mix a main storyline with connected sketches and an interval act, it feels a bit of a jumble.
Once series two rolls around, you can see the writing of Elton, Mayall and Lise Mayer becoming more confident. The gags are tighter and more refined, and the story feels more cohesive. Sketches are still present but they feel more like “Laugh In” inserts that don’t linger too long.
I think it’s fair to say that this isn’t the show to come to if you want an easy-to-follow story. Many of the episodes establish a basic plot and then proceed to abandon it by the middle. You’d assume this would be frustrating, but it only adds to the genius. It genuinely makes you wonder where they will go next. For example, they build up a story about a serial killer, played by Jennifer Saunders, and then randomly abandon it to go elsewhere. Throw in an ill-timed Easter bunny, played by Dawn French, and a trip to a mysterious land starts to sound like narrative chaos. That’s because it is, and I love it.
The stunts performed in both series are nothing short of amazing. I find it incredible how the crew achieved a lot of them. From walls blowing up to beds dropping through the floorboards into the kitchen, there must have been a lot of work put in. Much of the big stunts have a ‘silent movie’ vibe about them, such is their enormity.
The Musical Acts on the Show
Unusually for a sitcom, the episodes are broken up by one musical performance each episode. Funded by the variety department of the BBC, it added a strange layer to proceedings that I didn’t know I needed. It gave much-needed respite from the chaos, while still providing occasional laughs through cut scenes back to the characters. This mix of Morecambe & Wise and The Monkees shouldn’t work, but I believe it does. Seeing the likes of Madness, Dexys Midnight Runners, John Otway, Amazulu, The Dammed and Motorhead on a show mainstream yet alternative is a delight.
Conclusion:
As a millennial, I am surprised by my newfound admiration for The Young Ones. It always seemed like a moment in time that could not translate past the 90s. It is the embryo of much comedy that came afterwards, not just in the stars it created but how it threw out the rulebook. The stunts performed here continue to be outrageous, but I have to applaud the ingenuity of everyone involved. Chaos may appear simple, yet crafting it is not an easy feat.
The show features incisive satire that remains relevant, alongside characters that feel like familiar acquaintances. I never expected to like this show, but it has created a new fan. Perhaps it is my memories of being a student that have changed my mind, or that I am now a parent of a small child? Whatever it is, I’ll be sure to revisit Vivian, Neil, Mike and Rik very soon!
