Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: Greg Davies is back. Thank the music gods. He’s still the giant, eyebrow-waggling dad of British panel shows. His rage is our comfort food.
But the lineup? A total refresh. No more Simon Amstell (we still miss you, Simon). No more Mark Lamarr (the OG grump). Instead, we get a rotating squad of comedians and musicians who actually look like they want to be there.
And the guests? Chaos. One episode had a rapper who didn’t know who The Beatles were. Another had a folk singer who couldn’t stop crying. Pure gold.
The format: still broken, still brilliant
They didn’t “fix” the show. Thank goodness. The rounds are the same: Intros, Next Lines, Missing Lyrics. It’s like your favourite battered sofa—ugly, comfy, and you know exactly where to sit.
The mockery is still merciless. The guests still sing badly. The host still suffers. Honestly, if they ever polished this show, it’d lose its soul. You don’t polish a punk rock band, do you?
My favourite bit? The “Identity Parade” round. “Is this your nose?” Yes, it’s still peak awkward television. I laughed so hard I snorted tea. Not sorry.
Never Mind the Buzzcocks
