I always look forward to new shows by Ricky Gervais, whether it’s standup or series, and this time was no different. That longing is usually tinged with a little trepidation as I know Ricky will go where others fear to tread. I had a feeling that behind animation he may be even more shocking, non PC and BS free. He has not disappointed.
There is one point in Alley Cats that will stay with me forever. One moment where I gipped, then spewed, then tried to wipe my mind with a Dumb and Dating show. It didn’t work. I soon found myself switching back, I was invested. I wanted to see if the kitten found her home, if Gus sailed into the sunset with Lara and if Puke would curl up and die so I didn’t have to consider that disgusting face ever again.
Alley Cats is a triumph, a close to the bone, white knuckle, profanity proud cartoon reminiscent of The Fat Slags and Buster Gonads. It reeks of nostalgia while also radiating warmth and a clear cut perspective on life and death.
You will belly laugh, you will cringe, you will cheer on the characters, you’ll shake your head in dismay and you may even shed a tear. To do all of that in every episode, in just fifteen minutes of screen time is a skill only held by the great Ricky Gervais.
It made me want to be a kid again in the 80’s and 90’s. Where the internet didn’t exist, politically correct wasn’t a thing, people didn’t get cancelled and we called a spade a spade with humour, without anyone shouting offensive.
As with everything Ricky writes it makes you take a hard look at life. It instils the desire to make the most of it, live the best of it, to not waste a minute. As it’s all we’ve really got.
Love, loyalty, ribbing and rimming, Alley Cats on Netflix is a fait accompli (or whatever poncey French words you want to insert here). Watch it, and vomit like me.
