It's not actually that sunny in Philadelphia

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Like the name of a wholesome family entertainment show. Perhaps a light-hearted comedy where a group of old friends who own a bar get into a few scrapes but it all turns out all right in the end. Well, the irony begins with the title. It’s Always Sunny is one of the craziest, darkest sitcoms ever to hit our screens.

The show itself is not exactly a guilty pleasure. It’s got 94% on Rotten Tomatoes. It gets consistently good reviews and ratings. In December it was announced that it had been renewed for four more seasons. It’s already the longest-running live comedy show of all-time; FX has renewed it up until season 18. So no, it’s not exactly trash TV. However, it is my guilty pleasure, simply because it’s so dark and I love it so much.

The five protagonists are some of the most obnoxious, vile, despicable characters you will ever see on TV. Each one of them is as selfish and reprehensible as the others. Each one is awful in their own unique and special way. They spend most of their time arguing, shouting and picking on Dee. Occasionally, they’ll stop screaming at each other long enough to ruin somebody else’s life.

Frank is a millionaire who made his money through embezzlement, stealing from his former business partner, and running sweatshops. Some of his finer moments include sleeping with his niece, stealing his ex-wife’s dog, pimping out his son to rich ladies in the country club, and hijacking a boat full of tourists to get to the cinema in time for Thunder Gun Express. Frank enjoys dressing as a man-cheetah, sewing himself naked into couches to hear what others are saying about him, and whipping out his gun at the slightest hint of a problem.

Frank’s daughter Deandra is a delusional, narcissistic wannabe actress who constantly gets picked on by the rest of the gang and then takes her anger out on others. In one of the early seasons, offended when the guys say she’s not pretty enough to be targeted by a serial killer, she manipulates a priest into falling in love with her. When he leaves the church for her, she tells him she was joking. Dee also enjoys sleeping with married men, smoking crack, and putting on black/brownface and offensive accents to create her “comedy characters”. Honourable mention for the episode where she digs up her dead mother’s coffin to check if there’s jewellery inside.

Dee’s twin brother Dennis likes to think he’s the superior, sophisticated one. In fact, he’s completely lost touch with reality. Frequently referring to himself as “The Golden God,” he flies off the handle at the slightest of things. Most episodes end up with him eyes popping, veins bulging, red in the face screaming at someone. In one episode the guys buy a boat, and Dennis gets pretty frustrated when they’re disturbed by his assertion that women can’t reject you out at sea because of “the implication.” As time goes on, Dennis reveals more of his evil side, until the gang ends up wondering if he could be the serial killer stalking Philly. We haven't actually got an answer to that yet.

Mac, Dennis’s friend from school, is equally mean and devious, and equally quick to anger. Mac often plays the other members of the group off against each other, and loves to cause drama and create arguments. He claims to be a devout Catholic, but doesn’t actually seem to have any morals – as evidenced by the fact that he sleeps with Barbara, Frank’s wife and Dennis and Dee’s mum, and The Waitress, the love of Charlie’s life. In one particularly horrific yet somehow hilarious scene, Mac reveals that he’s killed the pet dog and put it in Dennis’s dinner after being driven insane by living in the suburbs for a month.

Charlie, another old school friend, likes making up songs and hanging out with cats. Sounds harmless enough, until you realise he’s the most unstable and unpredictable of them all. A self-confessed wildcard (and illiterate maniac with a penchant for sniffing cleaning products), Charlie has committed more than his fair share of crimes. He relentlessly stalks the waitress from the coffee shop round the corner, despite not even knowing her name. He kidnaps a journalist who gave their bar a bad review. He sets fire to their new neighbour’s business. On St. Patrick’s Day he holds a short man hostage, convinced he’s a leprechaun, and tortures him into revealing where he’s left his pot of gold.

The cast of colourful supporting characters includes the McPoyles, a sweaty, creepy pair of brothers with an unhealthy interest in their sister; Bill Ponderosa, a happy family man who ends up a divorced drug addict after meeting the gang; Bill’s sister Maureen who marries Dennis in a moment of madness and later uses his alimony money for plastic surgery to look like a cat; and Rickety Cricket, former priest turned homeless prostitute.

As you can probably tell, the show is pretty dark. It’s definitely a lot bleaker and blacker than its chirpy, upbeat name would suggest. And yet, I watch it over and over and over again. I’ve seen each series more times than I can count. I know every plotline. I probably know most of the words. When I get to the end of all the episodes so far, I go back and start from season one again.

Is this normal behaviour? Sure, everyone binge-watches, but does everyone binge-watch a bunch of evil people screaming at each other and carrying out crazy schemes? Am I a terrible person? How can I laugh so much at a show where the characters, among other things, poison a bunch of college students so they can win a flip-cup tournament, turn up to the morgue with a portable stove so they can taste some human flesh, and destroy an innocent family’s house in their own version of Extreme Makeover?

I’m not quite sure what this says about me, and I’m not sure I really want to examine it too closely either. For now, I’ll keep to myself the extent of this particular guilty pleasure binge.