The Cutprice Guignol

Mismatch your eyebrows, don your wigs, and for God’s sake get the quiche into the freezer: it’s time to talk about Smoggie Queens.

Created by Phil Dunning, Smoggie Queens debuted in 2024 and its second season came out earlier this year – and, honestly, it’s might be one of my favourite pieces of LGBTQ television to come out of the UK. At the heart of the show is a found family made up of various LGBTQ (and adjacent) characters living in the Middlesborough – which is the kind of thing that, while very sweet, could so easily slide into that topic-of-the-week storytelling focused on the various issues facing the modern community in the UK. Which, make no mistake, has its place in the TV landscape, but when it comes down to it, I’m always here for the sharp edges more than the soft centres, and Smoggie Queens sneaks in the latter with a healthy dose of the former.

Phil Dunning, in the grand tradition of comedy writers creating characters for themselves in their stories, has crafted a legendary arsehole in Dickie; the exact intersection between Miss Piggy and Mr Toad, he’s an endlessly, inventively supercilious, mis-eyebrowed masterpiece who sits at the centre of the show, so absurd and outrageous it makes everyone else look a little more grounded in comparison. As much as I could watch him swan around in a bombshell dress with a wig that looks like he threw it in the air and walked underneath it, it’s the balance of this absurdity with the rest of the cast that makes Smoggie Queens hit just right.

Mark Benton, as group matriarch and drag queen Mam (though he will always be Clive from the first episode of the Doctor Who reboot to me), has the chops to bring home the warmth and vitality of the found family at the centre of this story without dipping into schmaltz, while Elijah Young as Stewart, a young gay man coming to terms with his sexuality and place in the community, is the absolute definition of My Wee Sausage and a sweetie-pie who cuts through some of the acidity and arch that drives much of the show. The connection between them across generations, Mam’s insistence on making life better for the next lot, sits at the heart of the show’s more serious side, touching on the issues that have plagued Mam as a result of her choice to live authentic to herself in a world that didn’t – and often doesn’t – want her to. Without a shadow of a doubt, though, my favourite character is Patsy Lowes as Sal, a monotone lesbian who reminds me of about 30% of all the women I’ve ever dated, in the best way possible.

Okay, yeah – but what about the comedy? As far as I’m concerned, the show really shines when it delves into various genre exercises as told through the lens of these distinct characters – everything from murder mysteries to great escapes to a Titanic-centric episode that’s set around a pair of feuding drag queen bingo brunches, Dunning seamlessly fits genre tropes into the unique world he’s created. The glamorous and fabulous found family at the show’s heart serve as a hysterical contrast to the utter mundanity of most of their lives (God, Mam and those fucking quiches), and the second season soars with some more ambitious episodes that make the most of the brilliant supporting cast. From Sal’s sullen girlfriend Danni (Charlotte Riley, who, and I hate to admit this, I would probably put up with a lot of that bad behaviour from) to Bill Fellows as the deranged Keith of Keith’s World of Carpets, it leans even further into the absurd without losing the more serious issues at its core.

Smoggie Queens is a masterful mix of wit, warmth, and weirdness that’s as playful as it is profound at times, effervescently watchable and packed with a passion for British gay culture that drips off every frame. As sharp-elbowed as it is soft-hearted, it’s nigh-on perfect queer comedy – provided you don’t look too hard at the wigs.

(header image via Guardian)