As most of my readers — all six or eight of them — are Americans, let me explain. David Mitchell is a British actor/comedian whom I have only recently discovered through the magic of BritBox TV, which I received as a gift from a friend this past Christmas. (The gift was a subscription to BritBox . . . not David Mitchell himself tied up with a big red bow. Although that would have been nice too.)

So there I was, mindlessly scrolling through the list of British shows I’ve never heard of before, in search of something that didn’t involve serial killers, psychopaths, or incestuous relationships. And there was an advert (that’s British for “ad”) for a new show titled, simply, “Ludwig,” starring this rather ordinary-looking chap with a graying beard, a hairline disturbingly reminiscent of Adolph Hitler, and absolutely mesmerizing dark eyes. I had already missed the first three episodes, so I hastened to catch up.

A brief synopsis: Oddly enough, the principal protagonist, played by Mitchell, is not named Ludwig; he is, instead, James: a brilliant mathematician and puzzle-solver, rather quirky and introverted (a gross understatement), whose identical twin brother — a more normal fellow named John who is a police inspector — has mysteriously disappeared, leaving a warning note for his wife and son to do the same instead of taking them with him.

But rather than take the hint, the wife engages her brother-in-law to try to find John, because he’s smarter than the entire Cambridge Police Department, and because she’s afraid to let them in on John’s secret, which she doesn’t know in any event.

So James — shy, nervous, slightly OCD, and with no crime-solving expertise whatsoever — takes on the persona of his brother and . . . although by the third episode he still has no clue as to his sibling’s whereabouts . . . begins solving other crimes for the police, using his skills as a puzzle-solver.

Well, by this time, I am irretrievably hooked on this completely improbable premise. But this is a weekly show, so I have to wait until the following Thursday for the fourth episode . . . and I still have no idea why the show is even called “Ludwig,” other than the fact that its background music consists mainly of Beethoven compositions: specifically, his Fifth Symphony (BA-BA-BA-BUM!), and “Ode to Joy” from the Ninth, used alternately depending on the mood the directors are trying to set for the specific scene.

Are you with me so far?

No? Well, you’d better catch up, because we’re off again . . .

*. *. *

By S1/E4 (Season 1, Episode 4, in case you’re not into TV serials), I have decided that David Mitchell — the real one, not the fictitious James, or John, or Ludwig — is my kind of guy. His facial expressions, while mostly serious or even totally blank, are hilarious and spot-on (another Britishism — I’m really getting into those). And he’s sweet. But more importantly, he’s very smart and he corrects people . . . little factual errors, or incorrect suppositions, and — my personal favorite — their grammar!

Okay, I know I’m basing this on the Ludwig character and imparting that imaginary person’s traits to a real-life individual. But don’t we all do that? Haven’t you ever believed that, say, John Wayne was an honest-to-goodness cowboy hero? So just stay with me here, because I’m coming to the good part.

*. *. *

Now it’s between Thursdays, I’m waiting for the next segment of “Ludwig,” and I’ve already watched every episode of 23 seasons of “Midsomer Murders” so many times I actually remember who the incestuous, psychopathic mass murderer is in every single one. So I go program-surfing again, and I feel the need for a laugh, and I settle on some sort of comedy-quiz-panel show called “Would I Lie To You?” And in the picture accompanying the description of the show, I spot a familiar face.

(Don’t all raise your hands at once; you know I’m going to say it’s David Mitchell.)

*. *. *

I’m not ordinarily a huge fan of quiz shows because, whether I know the answer or not, I find it frustrating to (a) not actually win the prize when I’m right, or (b) be proven inadequately informed, yet again, when I’m wrong. But — come on, now! — it’s David Mitchell, so I have to give it a go. And there are multiple seasons of this show, so maybe there’s something to it.

And by the end of the first half-hour segment, I’m laughing so hard I’m practically wetting myself.

Quick tutorial: There is, of course, a moderator (Rob Brydon), plus two panels of three celebrities each: the regular two team captains — David Mitchell and Lee Mack — and a rotation of four celebrity guest panelists. They are given the most ludicrous situations to describe and enlarge upon as though they were true, and the opposing team tries to determine truth from lies.

It sounds simplistic . . . and, in fact, it is. But these people are so quick, so funny, and so unfiltered, that they get themselves into uproarious exchanges having nothing whatsoever to do with anything. Yet — and just when you’re thinking none of it is true and it’s all just a load of tosh (British again) — one of the stories turns out to actually be . . . true.

And I think to myself: “My God, I’ve led a really dull life!”

I mean, seriously. I’ve had some bizarre experiences over the years — some genuinely funny, others merely embarrassing (haven’t we all?) And I’ve even written about a few of them. But it’s a wonder some of the people on this show haven’t been locked away years ago, for their own safety.

And yet it’s not slapstick. Somehow, British people manage to make even the most outrageous insults sound like compliments, leaving you wondering what just happened. Either it’s an innate part of their charm, or they’re all complete hypocrites . . . but whatever it is, it works for me.

Now, the guest panelists consist of a wide variety of personality types: some perfectly normal (whatever that is), others a bit on the wild side. And in the midst of all of the verbal mayhem sits one who looks and speaks more like an Oxford professor than an actor: straight-faced, mostly serious (even when he’s joking), correcting other panelists’ errors, and occasionally — but not too often — cracking up.

And that, of course, is David Mitchell.

So I’d like to thank him for coming into my life at exactly the right time — when I most needed a few good belly laughs. It’s a scary world out there, and sometimes I just have to shut down the news reports, grab a snack and a beverage, and tune into a couple of hours of BritBox to rescue me. Because otherwise, I’d be in a rubber room by now.

It’s cheaper than therapy, you can do it by yourself or with a friend, and you don’t need a prescription for it. I highly recommend it.

Thank you, David.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
4/7/25