![]() A spin-off series was mooted, and ultimately nixed, and an American remake ran for five seasons on Showtime. It burned fantastically bright and never had a chance to fizzle out. Queer As Folk only lasted two seasons, a total of just ten episodes, and that’s probably a good thing. Events and Offers Sign up to receive information regarding NS events, subscription offers & product updates. From the archive A weekly dig into the New Statesman’s archive of over 100 years of stellar and influential journalism, sent each Wednesday. Weekly Highlights A weekly round-up of some of the best articles featured in the most recent issue of the New Statesman, sent each Saturday. The Culture Edit Our weekly culture newsletter – from books and art to pop culture and memes – sent every Friday. This Week in Business A handy, three-minute glance at the week ahead in companies, markets, regulation and investment, landing in your inbox every Monday morning. Green Times A weekly round-up of The New Statesman's climate, environment and sustainability content. The New Statesman Daily The best of the New Statesman, delivered to your inbox every weekday morning. World Review The New Statesman’s global affairs newsletter, every Monday and Friday. Morning Call Quick and essential guide to domestic and global politics from the New Statesman's politics team. Sign up for The New Statesman’s newsletters Tick the boxes of the newsletters you would like to receive. There’s a giddy, intoxicating, glassy-eyed euphoria to it, as if the ecstasy that Stuart regularly pops is pumping through the veins of the show itself. And crucially, it wasn’t about its characters being anguished or miserable or tortured by their situation. TV had explored gay plotlines in dramas before, although not many, but Russell T Davies’ series was the first to zoom in on the gay experience. It simply shone a light on characters we’d never encountered before on British television. But Queer As Folk didn’t have anything as stodgy as a message: it didn’t need to. When there’s never been a “gay series” before, how do you bottle the story of hundreds of thousands of men and women? Stonewall called the series a “missed opportunity” – you can almost hear the disappointed, headteacher-like sigh – as if art has a job to do. The Daily Mail may have predictably wailed, and gay rights charity Stonewall may have decried it – but then, Queer As Folk arrived in February 1999 with a back-breaking weight of expectation that few other TV shows are ever burdened with. Shocking, yes – but Queer As Folk was never outrageous for the sheer sake of it. Before the credits of episode one, screened 20 years ago this Saturday, have rolled, teenage Nathan has been successfully wanked off and screwed by a man almost old enough to be his dad. ![]() When Stuart, cruising the gay bars of Manchester’s Canal Street like a Terminator with a hard on, picks up a one-night fuck, only to discover he’s 15, he doesn’t pause, and he doesn’t walk away. Like its strutting, sexually confident, carnally voracious lead, Russell T Davies’ Channel 4 drama didn’t arrive with a timid shrug or a bashful half-smile. There was never anything shy about Queer As Folk. ![]()
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