This comedy-drama about a bunch of bolshy northern binmen hit the small screen in the mid-1990s with all passions blazing – social, sexual and political. Boasting a great cast headed by Edward Woodward (no suave Equalizing here) and Neil Dudgeon (now top cop in Midsomer Murders), the show follows Supercrew, as they are dubbed, as they grapple with the privatisation of council services and a society that thinks they’re as grubby as the job they do.
Written by William Ivory, who also gave us Made in Dagenham, the two series pack in plenty plotwise and touch on weighty topics: class, masculinity, the meaning of life. But it’s the characters that win you over, with each of the “lads” getting plenty of time in the spotlight: Dudgeon plays Ken, the de facto spokesman; Woodward is Nev, the wary old hand; Foxy, played by Tim Healy, is the no-nonsense driver; and then there’s Jonno, unsteadily tackling the transition from boy to man; sensible university student Sunil; and Bernard, who is basically big and daft. Roy Hudd, meanwhile, is John, who has been promoted to the managerial side of the fence and finds his loyalties tested.
In series one, the refuse collection is contracted out to a cutthroat Belgian outfit and the men have to reapply for their jobs. They find inventive ways of getting the workload done in half the time, such as shoving full binbags down a manhole. And, as you might expect, the banter is aggressively funny throughout: “Give over, Nev. They’re not daft, rats”; “Oh dear, David Attenborough must be shitting himself with you standing in the wings with all that wildlife information at your fingertips.”
There are hilariously enjoyable set-pieces too, such as the “wagon” catching fire and a run-in with a shotgun-toting rubbish-hoarder. We see council officials doing dodgy deals in the gents to line their pockets and discover that the lads’ personal relationships are not perfect either: Ken resents his wife’s academic ambitions, Jonno falls for a stripper, and Nev gets worked up over old wounds.
In series two, the focus shifts away from the bin round. Uncomfortable scenes unfold – Jonno’s violence, John’s farcical suicide bid – as the crew face redundancy, debt and sabotage, but there are also cheerier moments, such as Nev getting engaged to Irene (June Whitfield) and Ken entering a hairdressing contest with Sharon, played by Kathy Burke.
There’s fun, there’s fighting spirit, there are murky municipal land deals, and Hudd is a revelation playing it straight, while Woodward shows off his versatility in a powerful image-busting role, and Healy is a hoot in full-on Geordie mode. If the women are rather sidelined in series one, Burke provides a comical, sympathetic addition to series two. Ivory’s view, clearly, is that “getting by” isn’t enough: really living means embracing the pain as well as the pleasure and so, as well as laughs, we get tragedy and depth – and perhaps one too many speeches, Ken’s “We’re all dick-led” outburst being a contender.
But there’s an endearing warmth to Common as Muck’s romantic, warts’n’all view of humanity, along with its gleefully indulgent flights of fancy. These include a drive-past of old dustcarts to The Dambusters theme and Ken’s reimagining of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. With the F-word not being so permissable 20 years ago, the show also has possibly the most ingenious and liberal use of “bollocks” ever heard on TV.
