Sometimes I think it is all about the sense of humour. Really. The whole shebang. You can fake it through a decent relationship with different tastes in movies and different political views. Different gender, too, is still acceptable. It is the disparity in what makes you laugh that will be your downfall. Equally, a comedy that does not make me smile once reveals a certain incompatibility. Also, it brings up the following dilemma: either it is me who is humourless or the world. And, being the reasonable person that I am, I strongly believe it is the latter.
Still, fifteen minutes spent in the culture sections of most newspapers will tell you the inevitable: Fleabag season 2 is the greatest thing ever and Fleabag season 1 is the second greatest thing ever. The TV show is a triumph and Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a national treasure. The hype is nauseating. I try again and yet again I fail. Twenty minutes in, I raise my eyes to the fucking ceiling: where are the jokes? Surely it cannot be my inability to grasp British humour that won't allow me to enjoy this. Peep Show, The Thick Of It and Black Books have me in fits pretty much all of the time. Fleabag has me bored as a comedy and completely unmoved as a drama.
Perhaps the worst thing about Fleabag is that it desperately tries to shock you (it does seem like a conscious attempt, I am afraid to say) and the result is horribly flat. It is childish and crass but never shocking. All you see is a middle-class character of Waller-Bridge wandering around middle-class London trying to solve her middle-class issues that you do not really give a damn about. And then there are all these excruciatingly 'clever' asides where she just looks into the camera and says something cynical or vulgar or heartbreaking. Something that should make you laugh. Or cry. Or whatever.
