I don’t say it lightly but it’s time for Ricky Gervais to quit TV. His new netflix show is woeful

What followed was an excitable Merchant and Gervais rifling through the pages to find a record that a reluctant Pilkington could attempt. They opted for most hamburgers fitted in the mouth at once. I believe the record was five.

For a solid three minutes, listeners’ eardrums were tortured by a concoction of Gervais’ cackles, Merchant’s giddy peer pressure, and a meat-muffled Pilkington struggling to breathe. It was three minutes of pure silliness, of which the memory alone draws a chuckle from me.

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I’m a cliche and far from alone in bearing fond memories of Gervais’ comedy work pre-mid 2010s.

The Xfm show in question still has a legion of loyal fans who regularly take to Reddit to share tidbits of gold from the trio. The same goes for the podcast that the three men produced after.

The Office and Extras remain timeless comedy classics. The former celebrated turning 25 this year and remains high enough on a pedestal that even the six-foot-seven Merchant would struggle to reach.

Therefore, I’m fully aware of this almost nostalgic bias that I, like others, possess. And as such, I consciously attempt to consume any of Gervais’ recent works without instinctively reaching for the archives.

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But with all that said – biases and caveats aside – my word, Alley Cats is woeful.

The premise is simple. A group of human-hating, foul-mouthed, feral cats, led by Gervais’s Gus, stumble across a kitten who’s strayed too far from home.

Over the course of six episodes, Gus and his gang of misfit cats – all voiced by Gervais’ regular collaborators Diane Morgan, Jo Hartley, Tom Basden, Andrew Brooke, and David Earl – attempt to get this innocent young feline home.

First impressions on the premise? Weak. But this is Gervais, he masterminded The Office and Extras. His comedic wit and objection to all things politically correct would inject hilarity, right?

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No. Not even a little bit.

Comedically, the script is abysmal, void of anything resembling a setup and punchline. Instead, Gervais substitutes layered or well-thought-out jokes for F-bombs and C-words designed to solely offend.

I’ll list a few examples below, which, I must warn, contain Gervais’ rather fast-and-loose grasp on the use of expletives.

For instance, when Ponce, voiced by Basden, reveals his real name is Rupert, the following exchange occurs: “F****** Rupert the c*** more like. Rupert the f****** c***sucker. Rupert the kiddie fiddler.”

When Olive, voiced by Morgan, has her tongue stung by a bee, resulting in swelling of the muscle, Earl’s lazily named Puke has an idea.

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“I’m gonna get stung in the k**b,” Puke suggests. Gus dismisses Ponce’s reservations: “Clever, he’s gonna have a lovely big k**b! Look at her tongue, times that by his f****** k**b and he’s gonna have a huge f****** c**k!”

And when Gus and Fang, voiced by Brooke, are discussing their disdain for humans, particularly their sometimes self-destructive tendencies, the pattern returns.

“When some sort of f****** posh, bearded t**t goes up a mountain, and goes ‘Oh, can you rescue me?'” Gus moans, prompting an eloquent Fang to reply: “Don’t go up f***** hills, you c***.”

It’s a copy-and-paste scenario throughout. Comedy replaced by shock-value profanity. I’ve no problem with swearing one bit, but Gervais rolls it out idly just to pad out an already slim 17-minute script of each episode.

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Then there’s the show’s plot lines and themes, if you can call them that.

I didn’t mind After Life. Sure, the attempts to pluck at heartstrings were as subtle as Gervais’ guffaws, but there was at least some semblance of substance there.

Alley Cats’ attempts at profound, life-altering wisdom have the opposite effect. “Don’t you ever say that. Life is amazing,” Gus tells Hartley’s young kitten after she expresses a desire to have never been born.

Watching Alley Cats, I found myself siding with the feline tot.

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Oh, did you know Gervais is an atheist, by the way? If not, don’t worry, that’s in there, too.

Sadly, with Gervais’ TV work, Alley Cats is the latest example of how his go-to formula no longer works.

The format is tired. Shout the F and C-word as loud as possible for 90 percent of the episode before signing off in the final 10 percent with a faux attempt at life-altering introspection.

And just in case the pipes in your eyes weren’t bursting, Gervais shoehorns some Coldplay and Vanessa Carlton in there to try and pry the tears. My eyes were so dry, I feared the drought could warrant a national emergency.

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Gervais made the point of recording Alley Cats with his co-stars in one studio, as well. This way, actors could riff off one another face-to-face rather than being secluded in their own booths.

It’s a novel idea when it comes to TV-making. But it falls flat here. You can even hear Gervais move away from his microphone a number of times in the series as if he’s on a podcast.

The man’s stand-up credentials are unmatched. They rile up the right people, break records for Netflix, and do actually force Gervais to conjure up at least some material that resembles jokes. I actually enjoy them.

The same can’t be said for Alley Cats, however. And if this is the standard the 65-year-old has now set himself, I hope he’s whisker away from calling time on TV for good.