The Inbetweeners: Fwends Reunited was a shambolic mess that failed to do the show justice – review

School reunions are usually better in theory than reality. You attend out of curiosity, rose-tinted nostalgia or wistful desire to reconnect with one’s lost youth. Suddenly you’re standing awkwardly by a depressing buffet, having stilted chit-chat with a portly, balding braggart you barely recognise and with whom you have zilch in common, except for sharing a stuffy classroom when you were riddled with acne, attitude and hormones.

It was a similar story with The Inbetweeners: Fwends Reunited (Channel 4). This 10th anniversary celebration of the cult comedy set at Rudge Park Comprehensive had its moments but was awkward, overlong and even involved name badges. The only things missing were a cheese-and-pineapple hedgehog and some visibly past-their-best vol-au-vents. 

The show’s four stars – Simon “geeky Will” Bird, Joe “soppy Simon” Thomas, James “fibbing Jay” Buckley and Blake “goofy Neil” Harrison – arrived in their characters’ trademark custard yellow Fiat Cinquecento (shades of Del Boy Trotter’s three-wheeled Reliant van) for a clip-cum-chat show, hosted by stand-up Jimmy Carr.

In May 2008, writers Damon Beesley and Iain Morris’s knowingly puerile sitcom about suburban sixth formers debuted on E4 to a mixed reception. We heard how ratings were slow to grow and it was only recommissioned on the strength of strong DVD sales. 

However, The Inbetweeners blossomed into a sleeper hit and pop cultural phenomenon. What began as a Fisher Price version of stablemate Peep Show evolved into its own beast, became the channel’s top-rated programme, won a Bafta and spawned two high-grossing spin-off films.

There were behind-the-scenes anecdotes (working titles included Baggy Trousers and D---heads) and rather random celebrity fans (Frank Bruno and Peter Andre, anyone?). The gang’s catchphrases – “fwend”, “clunge”, “bumder”, “briefcase w---er”, “bus w---ers” – were given plentiful outings. 

Hulking comic Greg Davies, who played misanthropic teacher Mr Gilbert (aka “the lunatic giant”), began one of several sardonic speeches by deadpanning: “I hate children deep within my soul.”

Surprisingly, though, the show was stolen by archaeologist Neil Oliver – “a part-time Loki lookalike or Loki-like” – who fronted a tongue-in-cheek Inbetweeners history. Displaying perfect comic timing as he gamely sent himself up, potty-mouthed Oliver provided many of the evening’s biggest laughs.

It’s just a shame Channel 4 tried to squeeze two hours of New Year's Day schedule-filler from such featherlight fare. With only 18 episodes ever made, material was stretched thinner than Neil’s briefs or Jay’s lies, hence the same highlights being repeatedly rewound. If you found the infamous fish-punching scene upsetting at the time, here you could relive your piscine trauma again and again.

Proceedings were padded out with tenuous awards, a viewers’ poll and a superfan quiz – the highlight of which was a female contestant unveiling a tattoo that she’ll surely regret. The leading quartet frequently looked embarrassed by all the fuss. 

Compère Carr hit several wrong notes as his off-colour gags strayed into misogynistic territory. The cringe-inducing humour was always at the boys’ expense on The Inbetweeners but Carr misread the tone and greeted every female guest with a tawdry reference to their genitalia.

As background viewing for fans with Hogmanay hangovers, this was an affectionate trip back in time. Anyone else would have been slightly baffled by such a bloated and hastily thrown-together production. The Inbetweeners remains much-loved but this shambolic show failed to do it justice.