Cunk On Life is brilliantly funny (and depressingly timely)

As always, the real comedy of Cunk comes via the very unqualified pundit’s perplexing interactions with these serious intellectuals more so than silly side tangents like an extended bit about the fictional streaming service Streamberry (a crossover from Brooker’s Black Mirror anthology) and, yes, a recurring tribute to that Belgian dance anthem (Technotronic’s “Pump Up The Jams”). Sure, there are dark chuckles to be found in segments like Binko Says Don’t Jump!, a children’s program parody about suicidal puppets, but the talking heads are the meat of the program. 

Her idiotic line of questioning only works as hilariously well as it does is because of those baffled subjects—the slow blinks, blank stares, and disappointed head shakes of those interviewees as Cunk detonates such boneheaded bombs as “Has anyone ever claimed responsibility for the Big Bang? So we’re no nearer to finding a culprit?” is what keeps the schtick from ever growing stale. (A foolproof method of producing an amusingly annoyed response from the distinguished experts? Just mention the word “ghosts.”) Whether they’re in on the joke or not doesn’t matter all that much. (English professor Greg Dart is either an unconscionably polite person IRL or one hell of a performer.) In fact, for all of Morgan’s game dopiness and genius timing, the biggest laugh might come from famed particle physicist Brian Cox, who—after having to listen to yet another misguided and meandering anecdote about Cunk’s mate Paul, an ill-informed fount of knowledge for our title star—finally asks: “So what does Paul do?”

In an era growingly and depressingly defined by anti-intellectualism, a deep distrust of the scientific community, and a decline in literacy and critical thought, Philomena Cunk’s willful, confident ignorance is less a comedic anomaly than a real, satirical reflection of how many people nowadays talk and think. (“Keep your answer coherent for our fuck-witted viewers,” she winkingly instructs one interviewee.) It wouldn’t be that far-fetched for your own Aunt Carol to post on Facebook about whether “Michael A.N. Jello” used a really long brush or simply had really long arms whilst painting the Sistine Chapel, or for a world leader to utter the words “Las Vegas—that’s Spanish for The Vegas” during a State of the Union speech. 

When Cunk critiques “What the fuck is this?” while standing in front of an art historian and Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s Triumph Of Death, she might as well be a TikTok user complaining about the “point” of contemporary art. In this day and age, our understanding of, well, everything is molded far more by social media than any Socratic questioning. Philomena’s foolishness might be the punchline of Cunk On Life, but the real joke is on us.