, , , , , ,

Car share

Peter Kay’s Car Share is the most heart-warming, humanistic and protracted love story I’ve seen since Dawn and Tim’s will they/won’t they/they must in The Office. Peter Kay and the other writers’ astutely and hilariously detailing the minutiae of the humdrum, the quotidian and the banal, deploying humour and the power of day-dreaming as a transformative act into a weekly half an hour escape from the shit-grind of monotony.

The dynamic between Kayleigh and John is also reminiscent of (Ricky Gervais’ other creation), Extras’ Andy Milman and the perennial rabbit in the headlights Maggie. Whereas Kayleigh is more in tune with her world, like Maggie her innocence and naiveté never feels cloying or forced. Taking place almost entirely within the car it captures the fragility of human behaviour, institutional bureaucracy, the supposed ‘green’ aims of corporations and most importantly how love can be staring you in the face. And the dilemma of how to go about addressing it.

It is a necessary antidote to the bleak, post-coalition Bullingdon-led corporate dismantling of Britain that’s underway, situated at the other end of the scale of the forensic analyses, the personal as political frustrations of equally vital artists like Sleaford Mods. There’s room for both of these observational pieces of art and more.

What with Inside No. 9 and this series the BBC have earned a little redemption for its regular inability to adhere to its espoused Reithian edicts. More please.