Grace Dent on TV: The Secret Life of the Pub is sexist, ageist and a breath of fresh air – give these bitter men a whole series

In a world of braggards and showoffs, there’s beauty in boring people talking unfettered about nothing much at all.

Grace Dent
Thursday 16 April 2015 12:01 BST
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No half measures: ‘The Secret Life of the Pub’
No half measures: ‘The Secret Life of the Pub’

An hour of telly about blokes “bantering” – without women – in a sticky-carpeted British pub cannot have been the easiest of shows to commission in our increasingly squeamish-about-real-life climate. What if one of these men down the Lord Nelson said something, y’know, a bit like men actually say in the pub?

What if they were filmed in full pub flow ranting about their wives, colleagues and penises, with scant regard for the modern rules on marginalising the opposite sex or stereotyping minority social groups? Things could get very tricky.

At one point during this stand-alone “docushow” one man – clearly forgetting the cameras hidden around him – admitted that he had an “anti-w**k bank” of women he imagined to stop himself climaxing during sex. This army included his old school dinner ladies. These words were sexist, ageist, dinnerlady-ist and utterly stigmatising towards persons of all genders who wear tabards. They were also very funny.

Also entertaining was the British-Indian lad who moaned of his dating strife. Why do fussy Indian girls all hold out for a six-foot-tall Indian man when the average height is five-foot-eight? And why are men strong-armed into saying their baby’s arrival – the scrubs, the blood, the screaming – was the best day of their life. “F**k that!” grimaced one new dad.

Pub goers enjoy a pint or two at the Lord Nelson

Elsewhere, we watched chats on whether “w**ker” is the best insult, on the loftiness of calling one’s kid “Dante”, and we learned where builders go to the loo when the facility is not plumbed in. The answer, if you never want to look fondly upon your rose bushes again, is they bury it in your garden. And what if you could go back in time and could change one thing? “I’d kill Jimmy Savile,” said one boozer, “But with my left hand, so it wasn’t too quick.”

The preview screening I saw of The Secret Life of the Pub was called 'Men in Pubs'. It’s a shame that Channel 4 lost its nerve over that far better name; this was less a show about pubs and more about men in casual-social situations without women to shepherd or chivvy along the chat. While bawdy confessions were as expected, it was relationships like that of Cudge and Dodds, friends for 30 years, that fascinated me as a female viewer. News that Cudge had a tumour wasn’t greeted by any of the prodding questions, weak platitudes or attempted empathy that I might have rushed to insert. Instead, there was a simple toast, then silence.

At another table two moribund twenty-somethings Ashley and Gary dissected why they hated almost all other human beings and especially pointless small talk. Would a female friend have told them to lighten up? Or that being nice for no reason is just part of being grown-up? Instead, unfettered by feminine charms, the mates carried on to question why colleagues chat to them in elevators when murder in such an enclosed space would be so easy.

The Secret Life of the Pub felt, by and large, honest and true

The veracity and organic nature of this television “pub experience” will of course be heavily questioned. The groups of men were clearly harvested by researchers; some from men’s therapy groups, some new dads, some regular East End types plus two very out-of-place City Boys who had been mercilessly stitched up by the production crew. Joel and George, it seemed, had rarely been into a normal pub before and thus provided the viewer with a constant drip-feed of naivety and minor snobbery. It really wasn’t their fault.

The show felt, by and large, honest and true. I’ve taken part in TV shows on a few occasions where they mic people up, allow booze, and tell you to “forget the cameras”. It is incredible how quickly everyone does, despite their best intentions As the cameras roll, hour after hour, one thinks, “Who would be interested in this? It’s just people rabbiting on.” But as this hour in the Lord Nelson proved, in a world of braggards and showoffs, there’s beauty in boring people talking unfettered about nothing much at all.

The Secret Life of the Pub should be allowed a full series, largely as it left so many questions unanswered. What do you do with an unwanted erection on a bus? And can you still holiday in Benidorm if your wife’s hips are both dodgy? Kenny, Alex and Xander still need an answer to their question: if you’ve split up with your girlfriend, but are still sleeping in the same bed due to your tenancy agreement, is that really “split up”? And what if you’re also still having sex? I’m not sure “drinking lager” is the answer to any of these problems, but they won’t be the last men who have pulled up a stool, ordered a pint, and given it a go.

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