I won't know what to do with my life after I finish Peep Show. I went through six seasons in under two weeks, which equals to approximately 864 minutes of my existence on this planet earth with only 144 minutes remaining until I finish the series. I was recently in New York celebrating my birthday and on multiple occasions experienced an involuntary surge of excitement, but not towards the festivities surrounding the nature of my visit. These bouts of joy were triggered by Early Grey and Newcastle Brown Ale, and served as reminders that upon returning home I would be able to spend quality time with my new best mates Mark (David Mitchell) and Jez (Robert Webb).
Running into an old friend I hadn't seen in nearly seven years, I thought "her eyes are so youthful" but in Mark's voice and not my own. I was also introduced to a woman named Susan, "like Big Suze," I chuckled, except I heard Jez's chuckle instead and became confused. Last night my Netflix froze the moment I attempted to begin season seven and I found myself cursing, pacing about, opening bottles of beer and hoping that after just two more drinks the Netflix might be back up and running. No, it was the godforsaken wireless connection. I had no choice but to drink a few more beers and then check the connection again only to find that it was still down. Many hours later I find myself slightly hungover while experiencing the wretched effects of Peep Show withdrawal.
I still remember the first time I heard about the show - it was 2005 and I was at university in the UK. "You have to watch. It's wicked!" a boy in a bathrobe told me. I don't remember his name or how we started chatting in the middle of the hallway, but in hindsight I think he was a prophet and I wasn't prepared to take his advice at the time. I ended up living in the UK for a few years and developed a true bond with my adopted country. I once watched a documentary about the perfect loaf of bread and had actually anticipated its premiere - I even ate chip butties, developed a crush on David Dimbleby, and got my heart and soul torn to shreds and then set on fire by a Mancunian. I often saw David Mitchell on television quiz shows and thought, "look at him. He thinks he's so clever because he writes for the Guardian" without having actually read his articles. I was being presumptuous, was rebelling against the wise words the prophet in a robe had shared so many years before. I felt at home in the UK, became exposed to the Happy Mondays and the existence of Bez, and learned to recognize a super posh accent. All of these things would one day allow me to understand the world of Peep Show. When Jez refused to be the Bez of his band I chuckled, and when Mark referred to Big Suze as a "big, stupid, posh-head" I found myself laughing and nodding in agreement.
One more season and then comes the dry spell. Maybe the masters of the universe are making an attempt at telling me to slow down and relish every episode at a controlled pace instead of digesting it all in one evening. If I watch one episode per week, I can spend at least another month and a half with my fake best mates that only exist within the tiny screen of my ipad. But what comes next? Will it really be over? I came across news that Peep Show was approved for seasons 8 and 9. What incredible, brilliant, life enriching news indeed. It's possible that it might take a few years for the new seasons to reach America, so should I start looking for jobs in the UK, plan my move to align with the start of season eight? "Don't be daft," I can hear Mark telling himself/myself/I don't know anymore. However, Jez would advise me to go for what brings the most pleasure. I feel like a fool for having waited so long to watch this programme, but perhaps this is the way it was meant to be. I needed a bit of distance from that island across the pond, some time and space before I could enter their minds and understand their doubts and frustrations, appreciate their charming insanity.
They're just as messed up as I am, but would I really want them to be my mates? Wouldn't they just complicate my life even more? Their intentions usually revolve around love, or the hope for it. Love can drive anyone to perform insane, irrational acts, leading to miniature comedies in our lives with mostly ridiculous outcomes. Just last weekend I canceled going out with friends due to "prior commitments." Right. I preferred to spend time with my fake friends, and realized that they had become a significant part of my daily life. I am drawn to their absurdity, their ridiculous charm and genuine, clumsy love for one another. It may have taken seven years for me to follow the advice of the prophet in a bathrobe, but I don't think I would have appreciated Peep Show had I watched it sooner. The moment my Netflix is back up and running, I'm going to watch one episode for the week. It is going to take an immense amount of self-control, but I can't overindulge. I don't even know if the new season has started taping or exactly when it will air. What if for some pathetic reason it is cancelled before it airs? What if I'm hit by a bus before I get to watch season eight? So many questions are leaping through my mind in Mark's voice. Now it's time for me to spend 24 minutes in the world of Peep Show because I only have 144 left. Or maybe 48 minutes will suffice, or perhaps just 72 and then I'll take a break.