The Incomplete Guide to Being a Professional in Pop Culture
In which Vanessa reviews ‘I'm Sorry, Prime Minister’ and then pivots to the satirisation of other professions to avoid accusations of impropriety.
By Vanessa Burke
With Elliot safely in Down Under for his Adelaide Fringe run of Jokémon (buy tickets if you’re there, tell your friends if they are), I’m commencing my takeover of The Incomplete Guide for the next few weeks. It’s been said before, but I am a public servant, so I disclaim right at the top based on this week’s topic, there will be no reflections on actual government work so please do not make an assumption of my positions, based on my commentary on its depiction in popular culture.
With that out of the way:
I’m Sorry Prime Minister: 14 February 2026 at the Apollo Theatre
From the BAFTA Award-winning co-creator of Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister, Jonathan Lynn, comes the long-awaited final chapter of British political satire — and it is as cunning, cutting, and catastrophically funny as ever.
Jim Hacker (played by national treasure Griff Rhys Jones) is back — older, but perhaps not wiser, and still utterly baffled by the real world. Hoping for a quiet retirement at the tranquil Hacker College, Oxford, Jim instead finds himself facing the ultimate modern crisis: cancelled by the college committee.
Enter the delightfully devious Sir Humphrey Appleby (played by the acclaimed Clive Francis), who has lost none of his love for bureaucracy, Latin phrases, and well-timed obstruction.
Can Humphrey outmanoeuvre the meddling students, the Fellowship, and reality itself?
Or is it finally time to say, “I’m Sorry, Prime Minister…”?
Brimming with razor-sharp wit, nostalgic brilliance, and more double-speak than a press briefing, this is political comedy at its most timeless — and timely.
Yes, Minister was the kind of programming my Politics with Media degree at the University of East Anglia used as reference material for making educational points. Prior to that, I had never heard of it. As soon as I saw it for the first time, it chimed with a series I had seen in Germany (Salto Postale - this Wikipedia link is suitably enigmatic), but didn’t quite match the energy - my German show was much more pedestrian than the corridors of Whitehall power.
Nowadays, students would probably be sat before episodes of The Thick of It, but I cringe too much to make it through the episodes. Yes, The Inbetweeners was a chore to watch. But how would I’m Sorry, Prime Minister be received instead? I’m not in academia, so I won’t attempt to dissect the points the creators were trying to make.
As a piece of theatre, it’s fantastic. Set in one set only, over the course of a week, it imagines the future of familiar characters Sir Humphrey and Lord Hacker. If you’ve seen other plays (Yes, Prime Minister played at the very same Apollo Theatre, my stairwell glimpses confirmed) or not, it doesn’t matter. Not even familiarity with the original show is required - though, as you’d expect, it is rewarded with callbacks. You can pick up on the bits quickly enough regardless, such as Sir Humphrey’s verbosity to obscure the veracity of the situation.
The set architecture and prop makers for the production should be proud of themselves. Tangible items, smartly paired with screen windows, provide immersion and specificity. Casting has struck gold with Rhys Jones and Francis to continue the lineage of Paul Eddington and Sir Nigel Hawthorne respectively, and William Chubb and Stephanie Levi-John with new characters Sir David and Sophie who are fully lived in and excellent foils to the other two.
The writing is full of slapstick and still sharp. The new characters inject the plot with momentum. The blurb above gives you enough of an idea of where this is going, so the satisfying conclusion can be predicted early enough. Getting there is still satisfying, as the characters still manage to surprise you, and each other, occasionally.
The topic of cancel culture is unavoidable as moral judgements influence all spheres of life much more deeply: brands are boycotted for sourcing their products or being led by people from specific countries; people resign from their jobs or are fired for expressing opinions. Yet philosophers or ethicists aren’t renowned nowadays - it’s unlikely anyone would agree on who the modern-day Thomas Aquinas is… So to expect moral consistency and authority from figures who don’t devote their time to thinking about this is the core of the piece. Knowing Lord Hacker’s predilection for changing his tune with the wind, it makes for an entertaining story.
I’m Sorry, Prime Minister seems to have an answer, but it exemplifies some of the wishful thinking that politics-related content has, in that a neat solution is found. Only The West Wing has left me feeling as optimistic, if not for the same reasons. Unfortunately life is not as neat as what I’m Sorry, Prime Minister leaves you with, but that shouldn’t dissuade you from booking tickets if you want to revisit the world of these characters.
I’m Sorry, Prime Minister plays at the Apollo Theatre until 9 May 2026.
The Incomplete List of Professional Satires
To avoid all risk of looking like I’m making a political point, I’ll pivot nicely into programmes that effectively satirise other professions.
1. The Paper (US)
As a kid, I had always dreamed of becoming a journalist (yes, this newsletter is wish fulfillment on my own terms). Ned Sampson simply had more grit than me, pivoting from years of sales into becoming the Toledo Truthteller’s editor-in-chief. Spun off from The Office, with the premise and Oscar the Accountant as the connective tissue, it reflects that it’s made in a different time, with less abrasion - or maybe I just grew since watching its predecessor?
2. Da Ali G Show (UK)
Sacha Baron Cohen is like marmite. Ali G and Borat illuminated the hypocrisies of the people they encountered in their interviews and travels, but to me, Bruno struggled to make a point about… the fashion industry? Who Is America? tried to pick up the mantle of Da Ali G Show, but the problem with repeats is the diminishing returns. It was great to see a new generation try and fail to outwit his plainly insane characters.
3. Nathan For You (US/Canada)
The true embodiment of the Forrest Gump line: “Life is a box of chocolates [...] you never know what you’re gonna get,” Nathan Fielder is chaos personified. His show Nathan For You sees his character, also known as Nathan Fielder, attempt to come up with solutions to the small business problems he is presented with. It’s led to incredible initiatives, like Summit Ice Apparel’s profits going to the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre to defy the tribute of another local brand to a denier, but Nathan grates on the viewer all the same.
4. Call My Agent! (France)
The French show became such an international juggernaut, local adaptations (such as the UK’s Ten Percent - a paler imitation for sure) followed in due course. It felt like initially it was also underestimated at home, but with its absurd depiction of show biz abroad, and likely everywhere, it brought on board more and more recognisable names as the actors, tickling audiences worldwide.
What’s your favourite satirical programme? Which profession do you think needs lampooning? Let me know in the comments.