Drugs, gangs, kidnappings, police corruption, murder, even necrophilia. While this might sound like the stuff of a grisly crime drama, in reality it’s the backdrop to the strange and surreal BBC sitcom Ideal. A black comedy centred on a low-level weed dealer, Moz (played by Johnny Vegas), the show has become a beloved cult classic since its original run from 2005 to 2011.
After years spent lingering in the digital abyss, episodes were finally uploaded to iPlayer last year and now, 20 years since it first aired, the show is returning for a live stage production. “I didn’t appreciate how original it was when we were making it,” says Vegas, sitting in the restaurant of a plush five-star hotel in Manchester, a far cry from the rodent-infested flat he spent years in as Moz. “You only appreciate it years later, when folks are coming up going: ‘That was the one show that spoke to me – that was my life.’”
As a genuinely inventive and countercultural word-of-mouth hit, the show picked up obsessive followers; there’s a dedicated Facebook group where fans share quotes, memes and clips; people gush about it on Reddit threads and have made Spotify playlists to recreate its soundtrack. When its stage return was announced, several shows sold out instantly. “There was no guarantee there’d be an audience for Ideal in 2025,” says creator and writer Graham Duff, who also plays Brian, a hilariously snippy and flamboyant gay man with an infinite number of men on his arm. “But the response has been wonderful. The phrase we keep hearing is: ‘Why has it taken so long?’”
There is a feeling of unfinished business. The show was cancelled abruptly, leaving Ideal without a neat wrap-up. “Every series, I wrote the final episode thinking this could be the last one,” says Duff. “The only time I didn’t do that was [the final] series seven. By that stage, the viewing figures were so good, and we had Kiefer Sutherland saying he was going to appear in the next series. I thought: now I can stop looking over my shoulder. So it felt really brutal. We had a lot more to say.”
The TV show featured Moz, his girlfriends, bent coppers, a gangster called Psycho Paul, a hitman called Cartoon Head (a silent character who never removed their cartoon mouse mask), some utterly bizarre neighbours, and everyone from kids and schoolteachers and DJs all swinging by to skin up and buy cannabis. It also featured a spectacular list of guest stars. Julia Davis played a partly blind clairvoyant who claims she foresaw 9/11 in a Cup-a-Soup. Sean Lock was a transgender love interest of Brian’s son (a plotline that also involves some accidental incest). Paul Weller popped up as himself, and they even managed to cast Mark E Smith, late frontman of the post-punk band the Fall, as Jesus Christ. “There’s only one person who ever turned us down,” says Duff, “and that was Kate Moss. Everybody else couldn’t say yes quick enough but her agent said she wouldn’t do anything related to drugs.”
“It was a show that, against the odds, kept going,” adds Vegas. “It was almost unwanted – we were the runt of the litter at BBC Three.” The BBC, he says, “didn’t know what to do with it”. There was talk of a film to be directed by Ben Wheatley, who did series five and six of the show, but it never materialised. Then in 2021, Vegas saw the live stage show of another beloved and arguably overlooked BBC show, Early Doors. It triggered an idea: “I thought: That’s a beautiful way to get around the system,” he says.
The live show will pick up 20 years later with Moz, unsurprisingly, still a dealer in his and Cartoon Head’s flat. “The story is partly a murder mystery,” explains Duff, who is keen to keep details to a minimum, “with each of Moz’s regular customers under suspicion. Moz also has a new girlfriend, Liza, and my character now has an OnlyFans – because, of course he has.”
In the original TV show, Duff created a world that was vast but also intensely claustrophobic. There’s only one scene out of 53 episodes that ventures outside: everything else is shot in Moz’s or his neighbours’ flats, with an ever-rotating cast of oddballs. “At the time I was thinking: I reckon at least a quarter of the country smokes weed and will have been to a dealer,” says Duff. “But how often do you see it on TV? I thought there’s something in that: it’s a locus for all these people to cross and interact.” As such, the show isn’t really about drugs, nor was it ever intended to be. “I’ve always hated things like Cheech and Chong, where it’s like: Oh, I was so out of it I did this crazy thing,” says Duff. “I’ve got zero interest in that. It’s no more about drugs than Only Fools and Horses is about stolen goods. It’s about those characters and their interactions, dynamics, aspirations and disappointments.”
The pair clearly love talking about the show. Vegas sips a vodka soda, Duff a cranberry juice, and in the deserted restaurant hall this afternoon, their frequent howls of laughter echo through the room. Vegas recalls the “spliff-making bootcamp” he had to go on before the first series, because he wasn’t much of a cannabis smoker himself. “I couldn’t get creative by smoking weed,” he says. “It just made me play [PlayStation game] Toca Racing and eat loads of toast.” He also recalls the time he and the cast had been out the night before and came in on two hours’ sleep, a bit too wobbly. A producer deemed him unfit for work, and he was told to go and lie down. “We had the best time,” says Vegas. “We worked hard, we played hard, but we delivered. I was gifted a character that always looked worse for wear.”
However, such shenanigans were limited to series one. “By the second series, we all realised we were doing something that had some gravity to it,” says Duff. “We needed to protect it.” Vegas’s performance is some of his best work. Spending 53 episodes with a permanently stoned, adulterous work-shy drug dealer, confined largely to his living room, only works because Vegas is able to show him as funny, vulnerable, occasionally tender, and likable, as well as a bit of a dope. “It might be the closest thing I have given to a nuanced performance,” Vegas says, with typical self-deprecation.
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But this time, it’s perhaps Vegas’s onstage experience that Duff will be tapping into for Ideal’s stage reboot. “There are all kinds of onscreen elements that just aren’t possible on stage,” he says. “But there are things that live performance gives you, which are so special. Several of the cast work as standup comics [Emma Fryer, Joanna Neary and Ben Crompton are all confirmed] so they know a thing or two about live comedy timing. Plus, seeing the action play out in real time really elevates the suspense – and there’s a lot of suspense in this play.”
However, one thing they are clear to point out is that this is not going to be some greatest hits rehash. “I’m aware of what it means to fans and I don’t want to trample on that,” says Duff. “But it can’t just be a celebration. I want somebody who’s never seen Ideal on TV to be able to watch it and be gripped. I’m not interested in nostalgia and ‘Oh, do you remember that thing from back then? Yeah, we brought it back, and it’s almost as good as it used to be.’ Fuck that. It’s got to be bulletproof and enjoyable in its own right. I just hope people think we’ve done Ideal justice.”
Vegas nods along, taking a sip of his drink, before adding: “And, if it’s shit, it’s all Graham’s fault.”
Ideal tours from 8 September to 11 October; tour starts Salford.