Out of Order feels like the sort of energetic, Friday night, post-pub series that television commissioners have been trying to claw back since the pre-streaming days, so I’m not sure why it is coming out on a Monday evening, second only to Sunday evening in the gloom stakes. It assembles Rosie Jones, Judi Love and Katherine Ryan, three of the biggest women in British comedy, into a Boygenius-style panel show supergroup. Trickily, it tasks them with making a brand-new format work, which is never easy; impressively, they pretty much pull it off.

Jones is the host, while Love and Ryan serve as the team captains. Together, they energize the concept of testing the reliability of first impressions and preconceived notions. In the premiere episode, Ryan is matched with Chris McCausland, who humorously points out the irony of having a blind man judging others based on appearance. Love’s partner is Richard Osman, who surprisingly complements her with his wit and charm. If they aren’t offered their own talk show after this, Comedy Central is not fulfilling its purpose.

After engaging in playful antics and physically touching each other’s faces, which is a key aspect of this performance, we come to the average individuals who have willingly offered themselves to be evaluated by five comedians. For many, myself included, the thought of sitting in the front row of a comedy show is like experiencing one of those embarrassing dreams where you’re naked in public. So I commend the volunteers who have requested to be targeted by professionals in the art of humor. I say “targeted,” but the tone is more lighthearted than confrontational, and the jokes are not meant to be hurtful, except perhaps for the person with four nipples.

The performance is divided into segments. The initial round, called “Get In Line”, requires the regulars to arrange themselves in order from most to least on a specific topic. It’s a fascinating concept once you delve into it. Who appears to have the most marriages and what does that reveal about them – and ourselves? I would assert that, interestingly, the first impressions are usually quite accurate, especially in this first round, although the comedians are occasionally too kind to pursue their initial doubts. I’m not convinced that any of them would excel on The Traitors.

One of their tasks is to determine who has taken the most days off due to illness. This task does not seem very challenging, but it does remind me of the audience members on Graham Norton’s red chair. (Who actually keeps track of how many days they’ve taken off? Is this information only quantifiable for those who have never taken a day off and those who have been fired for it?) There is also a discussion about collecting memorabilia and a segment called “Snap Judgments” where the regulars are asked yes or no questions that often leave them feeling caught off guard. Questions range from owning a sex toy to farting in public to having a traditional Sunday roast.

It combines raunchiness and everyday matters, and does not come across as too refined. This mainly benefits the story and showcases the talents of the three main characters. They have the freedom to go on tangents, be playful, and bounce off each other. In the finale, the roles are reversed as one of the regulars becomes the judge for the comedians, with the opportunity to win £1,000 for a rather challenging task; I would suggest that the prize should be tripled, as it seems unlikely that anyone will succeed.

The duration of the event could potentially be reduced – without the influence of alcohol, one hour may seem excessive. However, I found the combination of Love-Jones-Ryan to be enjoyable and refreshing, rather than a recycled trivia night. The anecdotes from the regular attendees, which exemplify the phrase “people are strange”, add an interesting aspect. I laughed, I was entertained, and I may consider watching future episodes at 11pm on a Friday evening.

Source: theguardian.com