TV Review – Knowing Me, Knowing Yule

Knowing Me, Knowing Yule (1995)
Written by Steve Coogan, Armando Iannucci, Patrick Marber, and Rebecca Front
Directed by Dominic Brigstocke 

The British have a word: “prat.” The definition I could find states: “very stupid or foolish.” I don’t think many characters could serve as a living definition of that word better than Alan Partridge. Partridge is the creation of actor/comedian Steve Coogan. This perennial television host is meant to encapsulate all the phony, idiotic behaviors your average TV presenter exhibits in the UK. I don’t think it’s too far off from some of America’s hosts.

Partridge is a complete incompetent, unable to perform the tasks of this job he loves so well. This is showcased in his lack of tact and inability to read social cues. That alone wouldn’t be enough, but what propels Alan into another is his near supernatural inability to see what an ass he makes of himself in every episode of his chat show. He exhibits a refusal to restrain himself, allowing his paranoia & insecurities to explode as insults at his guests. In this Christmas special, he ends up assaulting his boss at BBC when it is hinted that he won’t get renewed for another series.

What is surprising is how long Partridge has managed to endure. He started as a one-note joke on the BBC Radio program On the Hour, a sports presenter who was terrible at his job. Producer Armando Iannucci saw something that could be explored with Coogan’s cringy chap and helped develop this into a radio show, Knowing Me, Knowing You. The title comes from the ABBA song of the same name and is Partridge’s catchphrase that he insists he must semi-shout at each guest when they are introduced on his show: “Knowing Me, Alan Partridge. Knowing You, [insert guest’s name here]. Ah, Ha!”

From radio, Alan would make his television debut once again as a sports reporter on The Day Today, a mock news program. The buffoon was so popular he got his own television series, adapting the structure of the Knowing Me radio show. The same troupe of actors appeared in every episode but as different guests. Alan would make a complete ass of himself, hyping the audience for big-name guests that never showed and talking about big show-stopping numbers that completely fell apart before they even started.

The Christmas special, Knowing Me, Knowing Yule, serves as the series finale to this iteration of Alan. His desperation is on full display. The audience is promised an appearance by Alan’s favorite James Bond, Roger Moore. By the end of the episode, Roger has asked the car to turn around and take him back to the airport, giving only a brief call from the car phone (voiced by Coogan). Alan’s house bandleader, Glenn Ponder, has his “friend” with him for the special, which activates Alan’s intense discomfort around homosexual people. I wouldn’t even limit it to LGBTQ people; Alan is just utterly ill at ease around talk of sex, period.

Series regular Rebecca Front plays Mary, a background singer with a choir brought in for the show. She is very devout and wants to discuss her faith, imposing herself into the program. A paralyzed former golfer and his wife come on as guests, an attempt at tugging the audience’s heartstrings. Instead, he and Alan devolve into a nasty back and forth, with Alan looking like the fool when assaulting the athlete. There’s the BBC exec mentioned above whose confrontation with Alan seals the host’s fate at the network. There’s Fanny Thomas, a drag performer/celebrity chef who turns everything Alan says into a sexual innuendo.

As much as I love Tim & Eric, Knowing Me, Knowing Yule is the better parody of a Christmas special. While those American comedians focused on the grotesque horror of gaudy celebrities, Alan’s show is about the ego & density of most celebrities. Alan is arguably the worst host in television history, but even fictional, he’s not too far off from some actual specimens (see James Cordon). Because you have the genius of Armando Iannucci involved, it becomes more than just comedy; it’s brilliantly pointed satire mixed with some of the most intense discomfort comedy you’ve ever experienced. 

And because I love you all so much, Merry Christmas. Watch it for yourself.