Bad Taste & Bad Influence: The Comedies That Defined Our Sense of Humour

In the latest episode of The Films That Ruined Us, Miles and I take a nostalgic trip back to the outrageous comedies that helped form our slightly warped sense of humour. We’re talking Naked Gun and Blazing Saddles, which are two very different films, but both were pivotal in shaping how we see the world and, more importantly, how we laugh at it.

Naked Gun, my choice, was one of those childhood staples that seemed to get funnier every time you watched it. It was absolute chaos — slapstick, silliness, wordplay, and gags flying at you at such a pace you barely had time to catch your breath. Watching it again, it’s easy to see why it had such a lasting impact. The jokes still land, the delivery is tight, and Leslie Nielsen’s deadpan performance remains nothing short of genius. There’s something magical about how he could deliver the most absurd lines with complete sincerity, elevating every scene into something hysterical. It wasn’t just the slapstick—though that’s brilliant—it was also the cleverness of the writing. As we said in the episode, it’s a gag factory.

We couldn’t talk about Naked Gun without naturally veering off into Airplane! territory—another titan of the spoof genre. The two are often compared, but there’s something about Naked Gun that feels more polished, more knowing. It’s got a rhythm all its own. There’s a reason it stuck with us—it wasn’t just the laughs; it was how those laughs were crafted.

Then there’s Blazing Saddles, as chosen by Miles. What a film. On the surface, it’s another outrageous comedy, but underneath, it’s so much more. Mel Brooks was doing something incredibly brave for the time—using humour to address racism head-on and doing it in a way that made you laugh and squirm in equal measure. It’s bold, offensive, and still powerful decades later. We talked about whether it could be made today—and honestly, probably not. But maybe that’s why it matters. Brooks wasn’t afraid to offend everyone. That was the point. He levelled the playing field and forced you to confront your own assumptions while laughing through gritted teeth. The partnership between Bart and Jim, the parody of Western tropes, and Richard Pryor’s influence on the script all come together to create something sharp, subversive and, oddly enough, heartfelt.

As always, we found ourselves returning to the idea that comedy is about pushing boundaries. It reflects the world around us—sometimes distorting it, sometimes exposing it. These films may be ridiculous, but they also say a lot about society and us. We joked about driving like it’s stolen, about quoting ridiculous lines at inappropriate times, but somewhere in all the nostalgia, there’s a recognition of how much these films taught us. Not just how to laugh but how to cope. How to see the world with a bit more levity.

There’s a comfort in these classics—a fondness. A memory of watching them when we were young, and everything felt a bit simpler. But also, they’re a reminder of how much comedy has evolved—and how much we need to hold onto the joy of laughing at life’s absurdities. Whether it’s Leslie Nielsen carrying his police badge saying something totally bonkers with a straight face or Mel Brooks breaking all the rules to say something meaningful, these films gave us something we’ve carried with us ever since.

In a world that often feels too serious, too polarised, and too full of fences, comedy like this reminds us of the power of laughter. To connect. To reflect. To push back. To let go. As Miles said, probably while grinning: “Just love one another, dudes”.