We're Drunk and We Know Things

We're Drunk and We Know Things is a finished archive of pop culture comedy built from fast group banter, practical research, and a willingness to call a beloved thing strange when it deserves it. The show often starts untidily, with venue chatter, crossed signals, and jokes about intros going wrong. Then the topic arrives. Sometimes it is a monster classic like Jaws. Sometimes it is a radio institution like The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Sometimes it is Dick Tracy, which the show treats less like a treasure and more like a very expensive question mark. The format usually follows a familiar rhythm: set up the subject, walk through the plot or history, stop for a production detail, then let the room pull the thread sideways. That looseness is the point. The panel knows enough to talk about Steven Spielberg, Douglas Adams, Susan Sheridan, Jim Henson, The Dark Crystal, The Hateful Eight, Sneakers, and Swordfish with real context, but it refuses to act solemn about any of it. Research notes share space with impressions, complaints, callbacks, and open disbelief at bad lines or odd creative choices. The show is especially good when affection and irritation land at the same time. Its Jaws material respects the chaos of the shoot while still making fun of Hollywood mythology. Its Hitchhiker's discussion can admire the original radio form while noticing how thin some characters were written. Its Jim Henson episode has a warmer, biographical mode, tracing a life and company history without sanding off the conversational mess. Its Dark Crystal coverage leans into childhood memory, creature craft, and the weirdness of early-80s fantasy. The archive is not polished in a studio-documentary sense. It is more social than that, recorded with the feel of people passing notes across a table and arguing over what still works. That makes it less useful for pristine criticism and more useful for discovery through personality. The jokes are often blunt, sometimes crude, and frequently self-aware. The best episodes feel like a recap that keeps threatening to collapse, then somehow gets back to the movie. It suits clips where trivia, disbelief, and quick-fire correction are all happening at once.