Reece Shearsmith

Another exquisite short story from Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith again poses the question of what these two could achieve with the scope and budget of a movie. Here, however, we are in theatreland, and dressing room nine is that of leading Shakespearean actor Tony (Pemberton) with understudy Jim (Shearsmith) looking unlikely to ever wear the crown. Note: the mentioning of the Scottish play by name does not betray the writers' ignorance of theatrical tradition.

Radio Times review

Having set an unreachable standard in the previous two episodes, Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton ease off a bit here, delivering a tale that's as brilliantly acted and constructed as you'd expect, with several sublime moments - but no knockout blow.

Tamsin Greig plays a friendly but efficient representative of a charity that makes wishes come true for terminally ill children. She brings an Enrique Iglesias-ish pop star to a suburban house. When the visit goes wrong, she and the dying girl's parents (Pemberton and Sophie Thompson) are tempted to take advantage. It's a slight, silly story that can't go anywhere and doesn't. Flawless execution rescues it.

The grotesque and toe-curling is usually just below the surface where Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith are concerned. In The League of Gentlemen, the fictional town of Royston Vasey - slogan "You'll never leave!" - was sinister in every way, but in this series of one-off tales about houses numbered nine, the cast, characters and setting change from week to week, which allows Pemberton and Shearsmith to demonstrate their formidable talents as writers and actors, and keep their audiences guessing.

Now both in their mid-40s, they 
are at the top of their game. While some of the stories properly give you the creeps, others are just black comedy, 
but there is always a twist. When 
they hit the bullseye, as in the second episode - a silent comedy in which the duo played two hapless thieves tiptoeing around a house occupied by a wealthy 
art collector - they achieve something close to comedy genius.

So what are we in for this week? We meet Tamsin, a little girl who is very unwell. She lives with her parents Jan and Graham in an ordinary 1960s semi and when her birthday comes around, mum and dad want to do something to give her a boost. So they contact a charity called WishmakerUK to arrange a special guest to attend Tamsin's party: Jan's hero, the singer Frankie J Parsons.

The occasion brilliantly captures the sheer unctuousness of fandom. There's Jan in her beige slacks and prim 
lilac jersey, going all giggly and 
high-pitched in the presence of a Beverley Hills tan and a set of highly polished American teeth. Frankie has brought with him an unsmiling flunky with a bluetooth ear piece and is 
escorted by Sally (Tamsin Greig), the groomed PR officer from the charity. It's smiles all round.

But then things take an unexpected turn, in a way that exposes the venality and base instincts lurking behind 
all those fake grins. At the centre of it all, looking worldly and disappointed with the human race, is nine-year-old Tamsin.

Inside No. 9 Episode 4: 'Last Gasp' review

Reece Shearsmith's absence indicates a lightness of touch and confidence in the pair's storytelling that makes Inside No. 9 one of the undoubted highlights of 2014 so far.

If they could only write faster, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith could have a golden age all to themselves. After Psychoville, they have knocked out Inside No. 9, a series of short stories each set in a different No 9 and steeped in their trademark dark humour.

The third No 9 is a flat occupied by Shearsmith's Tom, a primary-school teacher, and Gerri, an actress played by the actress Gemma Arterton. Once you've got over the idea that someone as tall as Gerri would go out with someone as short as Tim, it's all perfectly plausible.

A tramp returns a wallet to Tom, Tom lets the tramp come in for a drink and the tramp takes over his life. Gerri movies out. Tom becomes a tramp. The tramp becomes Tom. Like the best of Roald Dahl, we've been lead, incrementally, plausibly, from a normal state of affairs to the unbelievably bizarre. I won't' tell you how it ends because it's till on iPlayer. Binge away.

Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith focus their demonic gaze on celebrity worship and human greed. Tamsin Greig runs an outfit that makes dreams come true for sick children. If a little boy with cerebral palsy wants to play chees with Noel Edmonds, she will organise it. Here she arranges for the pop star Frankie J Parsons to come to the birthday party of a terminally ill little girl. After blowing up a balloon, he keels over - and the balloon filled with his dying breath is worth far more than the kidney stone sold by William Shatner for $25,000. "That's sick!" explains the appalled mother (Sophie Thompson). "The world is sick" replies her husband (Pemberton).

There was a point during the third of Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith's Inside No. 9 playlets when I thought Mind might be able to use this episode to teach insights into mental illness. The question was who was ill: Pemberton's tramp Migg who inveigled himself into Tom's flat or Tom, for letting him in? Soon Shearsmith's Tom was as psychologically homeless as Migg had been physically and rejecting all the kindness of a camp teacher colleague (the excellent Conleth Hill) who came bearing Body Shop vouchers. Would his girlfriend Gerri (Gemma Atherton return?

It was a distressing comedy to watch and, thanks to the body-in-the-bath ending, set back public awareness of mental health by at least half an hour. Its only redeeming qualities were the acting, the scripting, the satisfactions of one-act resolutions and the laughter it generated.

Less comic, more deep and dark, tonight's No.9 takes us to a flat occupied by teacher Tom (Reece Shearsmith) whose aspiring actress girlfriend Gerri (Gemma Arterton) is heading off for an audition when we drop by. It's the start of a game of cat and mouse, with Steve Pemberton as a homeless man who looms ever larger as the tale twists and doubles back on itself in sinister fashion. You'll want to press the replay button to search out the subtle signposts you missed along the way.

Radio Times review

The No 9 we visit this week is the flat of Tom (Reece Shearsmith), a primary school teacher whose disdain for hard work contrasts with his sunny, beautiful girlfriend Gerri (Gemma Arterton) and her efforts to make it as an actress. Tom keeps peeking scornfully out of the window at a homeless man in the street, until circumstance brings the vagrant, Migg (Steve Pemberton), into the flat while Gerri's away on a job. The gimmick of the show is that we never leave No 9, and maybe the persuasive Migg won't, either.

By halfway you'll have confidently announced where it's going, but Shearsmith and Pemberton give their story of how we're all one slip away from the gutter a chilling sense of rising dread. Nobody plays wicked games with the audience more skilfully.

Inside No. 9 looked at life behind closed doors. After last week's silent-movie hijinks, it was back into the darker recesses of its creators' psyches.

It's always trepidatious when Reece Shearsmith dons the clothes of an ordinary man - something wicked this way comes.

Here we started with Tom, a clean-cut primary school teacher, and his girlfriend (Gemma Arterton). Tom rapidly descended into an almighty funk with the help of a homeless man called Migg (Steve Pemberton).

What began as a study into the unspoken horror of Tom letting the filthy Migg into his house, took a turn for the darker as Migg slowly imbibed Tom's spirit. Or did he? The timing of the "twist" that he didn't actually exist suggested early on that there might be more to come and there was.

This third episode wasn't really in the slightest bit funny, but that's no complaint - I found myself moved by its sad brilliance. Its ambiguity about Tom's state of mind a fine - if cartoonish - take on mental illness. It also featured the glorious line: "You're not Charles Bukowski, you're just a primary school teacher who had a nervous breakdown." So that's one laugh, at least.