Abusive Parents: The couple convinced their daughter is a 40-year-old man in a little girl's body, so they've fitted her with a penis and testicles themselves.

Help yourself to a shoe wire if you'd like, sir: If you were looking for the post-apocalyptic novel of the same name by Ben 'Yahtzee' Croshaw, then you can find it here.

The suicidal man who jumps off of a one-story drop forty times, in case he changes his mind.

Mr Ventham: A man who visits what seems to be an expensive therapist, only to ask really obvious advice: 'I can't find my wallet?'.

Several sketches about a highly eccentric doctor.

She even dresses as a police officer, pretends that a man has died, then invites his grieving mother to the theatre that evening.

A very lonely woman goes to extreme lengths to make friends.

A man calls out a hired 'cleaner'/killer who turns out to be a six-year-old girl.

The said Dead Baby sketch, where a deranged mother hires a plumber to 'repair' her deceased offspring to working order.

Nothing was taboo, not even the literal dead baby. Notable for its heavy use of Black Comedy we're talking seriously deranged stuff here. There were no ad breaks, no canned laughter and no closing credits, all of which, it was felt, would ruin the mood of the show. At least one memorable piece per episode was 'filmed' via security cameras and a double to blur the line between 'reality' and 'sketch' even further. The show was a televised adaptation of the late-night Radio 1 series Blue Jam (also by Morris), and employed a unique combination of filming techniques and ambient music to create the sensation of the viewer being on drugs.

Then welcome, mmm, ooh, chemotherapy wig, welcome in Jaaaaaaaam.'įrom Chris Morris, the creator of Brass Eye and The Day Today came Jam, a Sketch Comedy show with a difference.

And when midnight sirens, lead to blue flash road mash, stretchers, covered heads, and slippy red macadam, and find you creeping 'neath the blankets, to snuggle close a mangled bird, hoping soon you too be freezer drawered. 'When dancing, lost in techno trance, arms flailing, gawky Bez, then find you snagged on frowns, and slowly dawns: you're jazzing to the bleep tone of a life support machine that marks the steady fading of your day old baby daughter.

Jam yahtzee