After educating the nation with Cunk on Britain, Philomena Cunk has broadened her horizons. Now, the presenter offers a six-part documentary on the bigger picture. Forget the history of these fair isles – here she is with Cunk on Earth (BBC Two). The eager-to-learn presenter, played by an astonishingly straight-faced Diane Morgan, has set her sights on the entirety of human civilisation, from prehistoric times to the present day. As always, she mocks docs, speaks to leading academics and wanders around looking at things, which may or may not be the things she is talking about.
In the first episode, Cunk tackles the origins and early history of man, or “human man” as she puts it. This is perfect because it gives her an excuse to talk to leading classicists and academics, who mostly reveal themselves to be admirably game and excellent value. She starts with cave art, and moves forward briskly, through farming, maths, writing, the pyramids, ancient Greece, philosophy, China and the Roman empire. I am not sure what this says about the gaps in my historical knowledge, but as well as laughing myself silly, I learn a few things, too. Did everyone know that the Great Wall of China cannot be seen from space? They did? Ah. As you were.
The character of Cunk was forged in Charlie Brooker’s Screenwipe/Newswipe, where she popped up for short skits as a kind of rent-an-idiot interviewer. There was always going to be a question over whether it would work to give her a half-hour episode, or even a full series. Would the joke be funny enough to sustain that? Cunk on Britain proves that it was, but Cunk on Earth then has to prove it can run and run.
Of course it does. It’s all very finely tuned at this stage. There are loads of experts roped in to answer her spectacular questions, which keeps it moving. It doesn’t linger on anyone for too long, and the academics are all such characters that each interview feels fresh. I am particularly fond of Dr Lyndsay Coo, who discusses ancient tragedies with the passion that can only come from a life dedicated to such a specific niche. There is something noble about facing the Cunk inquisition, particularly when she is asking questions such as: “It was so long ago. Why should I care?”
You could spend a lot of time wondering whether the interviewees are in on the joke or not; if they are in on it completely, it ruins the gag, which surely works best if they think Cunk is deadly serious. The same is true for viewers, in a way. If you look closely enough, you can see that there’s a formula: compare old thing to new thing, ask anachronistic question, wait for baffled response. In both cases, though, I don’t think it matters. None of the academics seem to think they are being mocked, nor are they trying to be funny; likewise, it’s so hilarious and well-written that if you can occasionally see the bare bones poking out, it isn’t much of an issue.
As much as this is about Morgan’s performance, it’s also about the quality of the writing. Brooker and his writing team do the faux-naivety shtick brilliantly. They do highbrow and lowbrow indiscriminately. Maybe you will laugh at the gags about the writing found on ancient Mesopotamian clay tablets; maybe, and I’m not saying this is me, but I’m not not saying this is me, you will roar with laughter when a chat about the Olympics turns to speculation about if they could see “right up each other’s bumholes”.
It also does surreal so well that Cunk’s questions occasionally prompt genuinely thoughtful and contemplative answers. You can tell that the philosophy professor is champing at the bit to go off on one when she asks him an oddly beautiful question about “mind pipes”, and he does not disappoint. If there’s another thing I learned from Cunk on Earth, aside from the fact about the Great Wall of China, it’s that pretty much everyone is capable of blagging an answer, even if the question is largely, to use the technical term, a load of bollocks.
If viewers have an appetite for self-anointed experts talking drivel and taking themselves too seriously, well, insert your own “Programme With GB/Britain in the Title joke” here. By now, TV audiences are used to inane interviews that ultimately reveal nothing of worth or use, and Richard Madeley isn’t even trying to be funny. Obviously, Philomena Cunk is a comical work of fiction, but it can provide a pleasant if brief sense of relief just to remind yourself that she’s not real, after all.
