The worrying reason The Thick of It could never be made today

It’s been 20 years since The Thick Of It launched on the BBC, making a total mockery of governments, past and present – but no one could have known quite how accurately it would predict the future. 

It’s something that even shocked creator, Armando Iannucci, who revealed to Metro that three policies mentioned in the very first episode – when ministers were scrambling to come up with ideas in the back of a cab on the way to their big announcement – later became laws. 

‘[The three laws were that] everyone has to have a plastic bag of their own, pet ASBOs and Chris Addison came up with a national spare room database, which became the bedroom tax,’ he explained.

At the time, the show was lauded for its sharp and hysterical portrayal of British politics.

The raging foul-mouthed Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) was a dead ringer to Tony Blair’s former director of comms, Alastair Campbell. While many fans have long speculated that the parallels between the dimwits on screen and actual ministers was in equal measures uncanny and alarming. 

The first two series followed the fictitious Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship (DSAC), led by the colossally incompetent minister Hugh Abbot (Chris Langham) and his equally useless team of advisers.

Early on, a TV critic described him as the ‘political equivalent to the house wine at a suburban Indian restaurant’, which proves to be quite kind. 

He’s eventually sacked and replaced by Nicola Murray, who is inexperienced at every level of the job, but still manages to climb the ranks through sheer ineptitude of her party to become Leader of the Opposition. 

Two decades on, I still watch the DSAC trip-up repeatedly at the starting block – even making hurdles for themselves that don’t exist – and wonder: Would they have done a better job than the 13 years of Tory rule we just survived? 

Abbot and his team essentially pluck policy out of thin air – like when Ollie suggests having a policy in your back pocket for the last cabinet before reshuffle. His suggestion: ‘Tripling the number of quiet carriages on intercity trains’, admitting that he ‘just thought of that’. 

And we also see them backtrack when their policies are clearly a colossal mistake – the first episode is a shambles as we see them announce, un-announce and then re-announce the same policy. 

We’ve certainly seen plenty of U-turns in real life, but unlike The Thick Of It ministers, our government have broken promises on popular policies. HS2, limiting earnings on MPs’ second salaries, conversion therapy – need I say more? 

Sadly, I’m beginning to fear they would have been better than this Labour government, too. At the very least, I don’t think they’d pander to the opposition in the same way I believe Starmer and his ministers are. 

By far, The Thick of It is the single best political comedy of all time – every single performance is still the career highlight for actors who have gone on to win Baftas, Emmys, and travelled through time in the Tardis. 

But it could never return.  

Peter Capaldi perfectly summed up why on LBC’s Tonight with Andrew Marr in 2024, telling the host: ‘The reason I’m not terribly keen on [a revival] is because I think it’s beyond a joke. And joking about it just in some way, takes the spotlight away from the problems. And I think that [the] problems are profound.’

He’s spot on. 

The fictionalised department of Social Affairs and Citizenship actually sounds like a very legitimate department in 2025. Even the Thick of It would have felt like it had pushed satire too far if it had introduced a minister for common sense.

I remember watching Esther McVey – a Tory MP – on Question Time trying to explain her new role, which was reportedly set up to combat wokeness. 

In 2024 McVey said her aim was to tackle ‘left-wing politically correct woke warriors’ in the public sector, and she introduced a ban on public servants wearing rainbow lanyards. 

When Fiona Bruce asked if her position was created because the cabinet she belonged in didn’t have ‘enough’ common sense, the entire Question Time audience burst into laughter.

It could so eerily have been lifted from a scene in The Thick of It.

And that’s just the start. The Tories’ reaction to the pandemic was The Thick of It on steroids. 

Matt Hancock – who implemented social distancing – couldn’t have been closer to his aide Gina Coladangelo, caught on CCTV snogging her in his office while his wife and kids were locked down at home. 

Dominic Cummings broke lockdown rules to drive to Barnard Castle (after previously breaking them to drive to dad’s house), but said the unnecessary trip was actually designed to ‘test his eyesight’ after having had Covid-19. 

But all that paled in comparison when it then emerged while most of the country stayed at home and didn’t see loved ones on their deathbed, our government was having parties. Even our own Prime Minister attended his small birthday party while ordering his country to ‘stay indoors’. 

Malcolm Tucker would have imploded. 

It’s been years of wince-inducing cock-ups from governments that make The Thick Of It feel all-too close to home. 

Labour isn’t much better – its rudderless direction, lack of vision might be on par with what we see in the show, but its pathetic pandering to the right is truly unique to this government and becoming more disappointing than another four years of Tory rule. 

At times – as a lifelong Labour supporter – I sometimes wonder if I miss the Tory Government that was at least entertaining in its absurdity. 

I can’t imagine Iannucci could ever have predicted that the bumbling fools running the country in his comedy would feel more reliable and trustworthy than the people actually in charge. 

Of course, it’s still a great watch and always will be. 

But it’s a hard pill to swallow knowing that the truth has become so much stranger than fiction.  

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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