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A Nine-Episode Starter Pack for Inside No. 9

Where to start with the dark comedy that's my favorite contemporary anthology show.

Iโ€™m a sucker for an anthology show, especially the traditional kind where every episode tells a different, self-contained story. Inside No. 9 (2014-2024) is my favorite contemporary example, so since Iโ€™m helming the Thursday TV article for a change, I thought Iโ€™d take this chance to spotlight nine episodes that demonstrate its range and could serve as an informal starter pack. There are also bonus recommendations scattered throughout, because I couldnโ€™t help myself.

Inside No. 9 has few unifying elements: all you can count on, as a rule, is that each episode will generally stick to a single #9 location (but even then, there are a few tricky exceptions) and that (nearly1) every episode will feature the showโ€™s creators and writers, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith2. (This show surely did a lot to keep Britain’s wig industry afloat.) Oh, and thereโ€™s always a hare hidden somewhere on the set: the most familiar version is the bronze prop3 that eventually plays a starring role in โ€œTempting Fate,โ€ but it may also appear as a silhouette or illustration. You’ll also consistently see tight writing and a cast of some of Britain’s best comedic and dramatic talent, but that probably doesn’t count.

Iโ€™ve erred towards the earlier installments because, when torn between which episode to use to illustrate a particular IN9 strength or genre, I often let chronological order be the tie-breaker.4


Six characters--Ian, Rachel, Geraldine, Stu, Rebecca, and Carl--are all crowded into a wardrobe.
“Welcome to the wardrobe.” (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œSardinesโ€

This acerbic black comedy of manners centers on a game of sardines at an engagement party. As guest after guest piles into an antique wardrobe, tension ratchets up.

This is one of my favorite pilots ever: tense, funny, and ruthless. The cast is perfect (this instantly made me a fan of Tim Key for life). The episode also demonstrates the strength of the showโ€™s tight 30-minute runtimeโ€“all this is clearly building up to something, but almost every moment that invites speculation is followed by enough jokes and concise subplot development that the audience doesnโ€™t take the time to mull. And for another superlative, this also features one of my favorite final images in the show. And a line that’s become my go-to for a particular writing move (“Oh, well-seeded”).

If you liked that, try: This is my ideal starting point, so watch it and then pick another off the list.


Maxwell, in a sleeping mask, is irritated to be woken up.
Can’t a man get some sleep? He has an important job interview to get to! (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œLa Couchetteโ€

One sleeper compartment on a train traveling through France has a busy night when the passengers find that one of their number is dead.

It was quite a struggle to pick a representative โ€œpureโ€ comedy episode. (Comedy is a near-constant presence in the show, of course, but not every episode is this devoted to providing almost wall-to-wall laughs.) I went with โ€œLa Couchetteโ€ because itโ€™s maybe the best to show off the creators’ occasional exuberant lowbrow streak: this is a smart show, but itโ€™s also not afraid of creating absolute pile-up of chaos that culminates in a man having explosive diarrhea in a shoebox. As a bonus, it’s also the first episode directed by Guillem Morales, who will be a frequent flyer and show a natural flair for bringing out laughs and thrills and making use of dark, claustrophobic settings.

I also admire how this episode starts off with a cast of characters who often border on comedic grotesquerie and gradually brings out their humanityโ€“even when theyโ€™re debating ignoring a manโ€™s death for their own convenience. But if the diarrhea is too much of a dealbreaker, see below.

If you liked that, try: โ€œThe Billโ€ (mayhem ensues as a group of friends canโ€™t decide who gets to treat the others to a tapas meal; it physically pained me to leave this off the main list, so it gets to provide the header image) or โ€œThe Refereeโ€™s a W***erโ€ (David Morrissey plays a referee whose last game before retirement goes to hell).


Andy and George take a hotline call.
Just make sure it’s not a wanker. (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œCold Comfortโ€

A new volunteer at a mental health helpline takes an upsetting call that has even more troubling ripple effects.

In terms of representing IN9โ€™s strengths, this technically checks off two boxesโ€“โ€œunusual filming techniqueโ€ (the episode is all CCTV footage from the helplineโ€™s offices) and โ€œthrillerโ€ (with a few moments so tense and creepy that Iโ€™ve been tempted to categorize it as horror instead). And as a bonus, it also boasts one of the showโ€™s best and most exquisitely paced endings. It’s the first of a handful of cases where Pemberton and Shearsmith direct, as well, and it’s nice to see what they do behind the camera to make the intentionally limited physical setup here shine. This makes splendidly unnerving use of a camera trained on a hallway, for example.

If you liked that, try: โ€œTo Have and to Holdโ€ (a miserable marriage turns out to have more, and darker, things going on beneath the surface), โ€œLip Serviceโ€ (a miniature paranoid thriller where a man hires a lip reader to long-distance eavesdrop on his possibly unfaithful wife), “Simon Says” (a showrunner still dealing with backlash from a famously bad finale vs. a stalker fan with a little too much leverage on him), or โ€œThe Stakeoutโ€ (as one character will tell you, itโ€™s a trope of cop stories that the new partner always dies).


Angela blows out the candles on a pink birthday cake while everyone looks on, alarmed.
This could all go up in flames. (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œNanaโ€™s Partyโ€

A family birthday party in the suburbs goes wrong.

IN9 can also turn out a particular kind of nuanced, well-realized comedy-drama that feels like itโ€™s descended from the films of Mike Leigh. โ€œNanaโ€™s Partyโ€ inclines more toward comedy than one of the alternate episodes Iโ€™ll mention below, but itโ€™s also got some sharp class observations and a jaundiced (but certainly not wholly cynical) eye for domestic life. And this is as good a time as any to note that the show always rewards rewatching: while this is a subtler and less plot-driven example, Iโ€™ve loved going back to it and seeing how unobtrusively key characterization details are set up.

Shearsmith turns in one of my favorite performances of the show here as Pat, who begins as a corny, nails-on-the-chalkboard annoyance and develops tremendous heart as he reveals himself to be more aware than you might first think.

If you liked that, try: โ€œLoveโ€™s Great Adventureโ€ (beautiful slice-of-life that follows one working-class family through the holidays) or โ€œEmpty Orchestraโ€ (an office karaoke party, complete with constant music, serves up a few professional and interpersonal revelations).


Julian and Kathy stand in front of the resort door.
A bit of vintage spookiness with a side-order of cheese. Or so you think. (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œThe Devil of Christmasโ€

A director offers commentary over footage of his โ€˜70s film, the Krampus tale The Devil of Christmas.

This is another twofer: not only horror but stylistic pastiche. If youโ€™re a fan of atmospheric but cheesy low-budget film and TV from this era5, itโ€™s a treat to settle in and listen to a rueful Derek Jacobi bemoan missed marks, rushed lines, and rearranged props; the actors also have a blast with the more bombastic, theatrical style (I can laugh just thinking about Pemberton bellowing, โ€œWeโ€™re LEAVING,โ€ complete with dramatic pose). But while Iโ€™m avoiding spoilers here wherever possible, I have to note that this is also most noteworthy for providing an especially (and unexpectedly) brutal conclusion. Itโ€™s like youโ€™re admiring how lovingly Pemberton and Shearsmith have recreated an antique bonbon wrapper, and then you bite in and find itโ€™s full of barbed wire and arsenic. Consider this an entry point to the showโ€™s darker side.

If you liked that, try: โ€œThe Riddle of the Sphinxโ€ (a late-night tutorial in cryptic crosswords becomes a Greek tragedy), โ€œThe Harrowingโ€ (a House of the Devil riff where the over-the-top Gothic is funny until itโ€™s not), โ€œDead Lineโ€ (the showโ€™s planned live episode goes supernaturally awry), or โ€œThe Last Weekendโ€ (a coupleโ€™s nine-year anniversary vs. the shadow of tragedy).


Fred the bellboy bids us goodnight as he closes the door.
“And smile and smile, and hope for decent tips.” (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œZanzibarโ€

A modern-day Shakespearean comedy, complete with iambic pentameter, mistaken identity, an endangered prince, and dirty jokes, unfolds in a hotel hallway.

This is simply a very charming confection. Fine, yes, itโ€™s also an example of the duoโ€™s formal and stylistic verveโ€“it takes both chutzpah and chops to โ€œdoโ€ Shakespeare like thisโ€“but my intellectual appreciation of the details (the transitions in and out of iambic pentameter; the Twelfth Night-accurate watersports jokes) pales in comparison to my sheer delight at this farceโ€™s fizzy, bawdy energy. If nothing else, this may be historyโ€™s best use of the slang โ€œa bit of howโ€™s-your-father.โ€

If you liked that, try: โ€œWuthering Heistโ€ (a Reservoir Dogs-style before-and-after heist plot done as fourth-wall-breaking Commedia dellโ€™arte) or โ€œThe Trial of Elizabeth Gadgeโ€ (a Puritan witch trial with moral weight but also a lot of perfectly executed historical gags).


Len does a clowning act with a hat and coat.
Don’t get fresh. (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œBernie Cliftonโ€™s Dressing Roomโ€

A never-was stage comedy double act reunites after thirty years apart, but it could all fall apart due to hurt feelings and old bitterness.

Every now and then, Inside No. 9 goes for the heartstrings, and for me, โ€œBernie Cliftonโ€™s Dressing Roomโ€ is the example, serving up all the emotional ambivalence of an old, close friendship gone sour, dealing with personal loss, and throwing in a smart (and delicately meta) treatment of comedyโ€™s changing norms just as a kind of lagniappe. As good as this episode is on its own, itโ€™s even better when you come to it after already having developed some affection for Pemberton and Shearsmith and their long-term collaboration and friendship6, simply because itโ€™s then even more gutting to watch them play shadow versions of themselves who never made it and have since fallen out. But thatโ€™s only a bonus: this is excellent even when you come to it fresh.

If you liked that, try: โ€œThe 12 Days of Christineโ€7 (a womanโ€™s life is revealed through memories of twelve different days, some of which start bleeding together), โ€œMerrily, Merrilyโ€ (three university friendsโ€“and one friendโ€™s new girlfriendโ€“take a pedalo ride for a reunion with a sad twist), or โ€œWise Owlโ€ (a damaged man deals with lingering trauma, partly expressed through recurring memories of his fatherโ€™s voicing of an animated PSA series).


Viktor hauls a rug (with a body inside).
In a crime story, a rolled-up rug only means one thing. (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œOnce Removedโ€

One rural home. Several dead bodies. A tale told in reverse, Memento-style.

This may be my wifeโ€™s personal favorite episode, and sheโ€™d never forgive me for leaving it off. Nor should she, since itโ€™s a clever, twisty thriller with an absolutely spectacular final bit of payoffโ€“and many, many other casually fun bits of payoff scattered throughout (why the bathroom has a mat poking out from beneath the door, for example). With โ€œOnce Removed,โ€ unlike โ€œSardines,โ€ openly inviting speculation is part of the fun, but that doesnโ€™t mean a shortage of comedy, from the broadโ€“Shearsmith in a hot pink dressing down and dual oven mitts and Pemberton as the worldโ€™s most desperate real estate agent; an old man who mistakenly thinks heโ€™s Andrew Lloyd Webberโ€“to the dark laughs of someone fighting for their life with bubble wrap.

If you liked that, try: โ€œKid/Napโ€ (a split-screen comic thriller), โ€œDiddle Diddle Dumplingโ€ (a man becomes obsessed with finding the owner of a lost single shoe), โ€œMisdirectionโ€ (a tale of magicians and murder), or โ€œMulberry Closeโ€ (a true crime-esque story of death in the suburbs plays out via a doorbell cam).


Wilma (off-screen) points a fingers at Cleo.
“When did you get so mean?” (Image courtesy of BBC Two.)

โ€œBoo to a Gooseโ€

Itโ€™s late, a London Underground train has just broken down in a tunnel, and a kindly nurseโ€™s bag has gone missing. Who is responsible, and whatโ€™s to be done about it?

Usually, IN9 touches on politics only obliquely, but โ€œBoo to a Gooseโ€ has not only a point of view but a blistering force. It distills its issues to something more fundamental (and more merciless) than party membership, and it does so in a way that leaves my jaw on the floor. This was the first episode in the ninth and final series, and it makes it clear the show went out with its power and ambitions intact. Some haunting final reaction shots here.

If you liked that, try: โ€œLast Night of the Promsโ€ (another Twilight Zone-esque episode involving the treatment of a stranger on the margins, this one digging into a bitter nationalism and xenophobia that goes past Brexit) or โ€œHow Do You Plead?โ€ (a home health aide tries to talk the devil into sparing a dying barristerโ€™s bargained-away soul).

  1. Shearsmith isn’t in “The Last Gasp,” Pemberton isn’t in “The Harrowing,” and neither of them are in the “originally aired pretending it was a new game show” episode “3 x 3.” โ†ฉ๏ธŽ
  2. Previously best known for The League of Gentlemen and Psychoville. โ†ฉ๏ธŽ
  3. My wife gave me a copy of it for our last anniversary! I also have all the script books and the behind-the-scenes guide. Woe to me for falling for this series right as the stage show finally closed. โ†ฉ๏ธŽ
  4. And even with nine episodes and several โ€œif you liked thisโ€ bonus recommendations, there are still so many choices it pains me to leave out, but I had to stop somewhere. Why couldn’t I figure out where to put “The Curse of the Ninth,” for example? โ†ฉ๏ธŽ
  5. I’m especially a fan of the light trails around the candles. โ†ฉ๏ธŽ
  6. This means that the only episode you really can’t start with is the show’s finale, “Plodding On,” which is entirely about a fictionalized version of their real celebrity selves: it’s an episode built on you having watched and cared about these guys for at least nine years, if not more. โ†ฉ๏ธŽ
  7. Shearsmith is reportedly very tired of hearing about how everyone loves this one in particular, so for his sake, I’m only bringing it up in this section. โ†ฉ๏ธŽ