The BBC’s latest comedy offering, Smoggie Queens, radiates a certain earnest loveliness. Set in the North East English town of Middlesbrough, affectionately known as “Smoggieland”, the six-part sitcom revolves around the trials and tribulations of a tight-knit group of queer friends centered around the local drag scene. While it brims with heart and valiantly tries to capture the quirky essence of British drag and camp culture, Smoggie Queens ultimately falls a bit short in the jokes department.
Meet Dickie, The Delusional Diva
At the center of Smoggie Queens’ motley crew is Dickie, played by comedian and series creator Phil Dunning. A spectacularly untalented drag queen with an ego the size of the North Sea, Dickie is the epitome of the sitcom antihero. With eyebrows scrawled haphazardly across his forehead and a seemingly endless font of cutting remarks he inevitably flubs, Dickie is a hot mess. When his fed-up boyfriend dumps him, declaring him a “selfish, egotistical prick”, Dickie’s brilliant scheme to win him back involves a tone-deaf serenade that ends with him getting hit by a car. Classic Dickie.
While Dickie may think he’s the star of the show, thankfully Smoggie Queens makes ample room for its delightful supporting characters. There’s the motherly, middle-aged queen Mam, the perpetually unimpressed aspiring singer Sal, token straight ally Lucinda, and baby-faced newcomer Stewart, whose youthful naivety is a source of bitter resentment for rapidly-aging Dickie.
Celebrating Queer Chosen Family
At its core, Smoggie Queens is a love letter to the LGBTQ+ community and the cherished concept of the “chosen family” – the loyal band of queer friends that rally around each other through thick and thin. As Mam sagely puts it:
“We’re family, love. Maybe not by blood, but by bloody mary’s and mascara!”
It’s in capturing the particular quirks of British queer culture that Smoggie Queens shines brightest. The show gleefully sends up beloved UK pop culture touchstones, from national treasures like Lorraine Kelly to retro chart-toppers B*Witched. In one memorably silly scene, Dickie hosts his own dramatically teary wake – complete with black veil and running mascara – to mourn his breakup. Later, a B*Witched lip sync battle at a Titanic-themed drag brunch goes spectacularly off the rails. These kitschy, unpretentious slices of camp are where Smoggie Queens is at its most joyful and authentic.
But Is It Funny Enough?
The problem is, for a sitcom, Smoggie Queens is surprisingly light on actual, well, comedy. Creator-star Phil Dunning is a fixture of the alternative London comedy scene known for his odd characters and pop culture spoofs. But his very specific brand of droll, deadpan humor feels curiously muted here. Dickie, in particular, is such an over-the-top cartoon, delivering every bitchy quip in the same flat drawl, that he often comes across more grating than amusing. The show can’t seem to decide if it wants to be a pitch-black comedy about an irredeemable misanthrope or a warm-hearted found family sitcom, and ends up stuck in a not-entirely-satisfying middle ground.
While there are a handful of great gags sprinkled throughout the series (a running joke about the quasi-mythical status of ITV’s Loose Women in the queer community is comedy gold), on the whole, punchlines are few and far between. Smoggie Queens has plenty of amusing moments and kooky charm to spare, but lacks the rata-tat-tat joke density of the very best modern sitcoms or the lacerating edge of a truly black comedy. The vibe is more cozy than caustic, heartwarming than hilarious.
A Promising Start
None of this is to say Smoggie Queens is a failure – far from it. There is so much to appreciate and enjoy here, from the vividly drawn setting and characters to the uplifting celebration of queer resilience and community. In an era where Ofcom has declared scripted comedy an “at-risk genre”, we should embrace brave, original series that spotlight underrepresented voices with open arms. Smoggie Queens is bursting with potential and does more than enough to justify a second season.
Perhaps with a bit more time to gel and a touch more scabrous wit in the writers’ room, Smoggie Queens could blossom into an unabashedly queer British comedy classic to rival the Cucumber/Banana-verse or even, dare I say it, Absolutely Fabulous. The ingredients are all there – a lovable cast, a unique setting, a playfully transgressive spirit. It just needs a bit more bite behind the blusher and a few more zingers amongst the Geordie jargon. Here’s hoping the Smoggie Queens will reign again, fiercer and funnier than ever.
