Like a post watershed Sesame Street, Mongrels introduces a menagerie of talking animals who congregate around the back of a London pub. There’s Destiny, an afghan bitch whose owner’s insistence on dragging her to a dog dancing show forces her to take decisive action. What’s immediately striking about Mongrels is the quality of the puppets. Well designed and full of character, they keep the show eminently watchable, even though the jokes occasionally fall flat. Perhaps it’s an over eagerness to grab attention, or even just a good, old-fashioned attempt to break taboos, but Mongrels is often at its weakest when it goes all out to shock. Jokes about terrorist attacks, devouring deceased old ladies and serial killer Harold Shipman are a little too calculated (and sometimes obvious) to work – proof that bad taste humour isn’t always the easiest kind of comedy to write. Mongrels is at its strongest when it falls back on its bizarre situational comedy rather than its sick gags. Destiny’s encounter with a canine obedience class, presented here as a kind of mind programming cult, displays an admirable leap of imagination, and Nelson’s interminable laptop theft story is brilliantly convoluted, as is his bizarre lakeside courtship of a Rhode Island chicken. Despite its faults – and its relentlessly below-the-belt humour is a sign of its perverse eagerness to please – there’s much to enjoy about Mongrels, most notably the animals themselves. Posh fox Nelson, in particular, stands out immediately as a creature you’d happily watch again, uneven script notwithstanding.
