I do like English small-town comedies, but Gosh, The British Are Sexually Repressed is a pretty weak tea concept for one:
With England, I think the trick is actually to imply hidden depths whether it’s confidence with firearms
or a beautifully tattooed head
or unusually-applied dance moves
that their possessors are holding onto, and holding out with, only to reveal them when the time is right, be it advancing breast cancer, the pleas of a child, or a murderous town council, and then to pack them away again. The mystery of the English is not that the country’s crabbed, but that that it keeps so much hidden in favor of everyday normalcy.