I remember watching this with a Scottish friend when it came out, very late at night. At the end of the first episode he was still laughing, and noticed me sitting apparently unmoved. "Didn't you think that was funny?" he asked. I replied, "That's where I grew up."
Not just the actual filming location, Hadfield, 6 miles from where I lived until 21, but the multicoloured plastic strip door curtains that the rest of England gave up in the 70s, the butcher who acted like we still had rationing and he was doing you a slightly illegal favour, the misanthropic bottom tier civil servants, the ambitious burned-out businessman on the edge, the two scary little girls, the family that looks like a tiny cult, the shop that never seems to sell anything and yet never closes, the accents, oh God, the accents... The North. My North.
It gratifies me that Americans can get the humour. I suppose Yorkshire is the UK's answer to hillbillies.
Not just the actual filming location, Hadfield, 6 miles from where I lived until 21, but the multicoloured plastic strip door curtains that the rest of England gave up in the 70s, the butcher who acted like we still had rationing and he was doing you a slightly illegal favour, the misanthropic bottom tier civil servants, the ambitious burned-out businessman on the edge, the two scary little girls, the family that looks like a tiny cult, the shop that never seems to sell anything and yet never closes, the accents, oh God, the accents... The North. My North.
It gratifies me that Americans can get the humour. I suppose Yorkshire is the UK's answer to hillbillies.