Letterkenny is A Modern Adaptation of King Arthur

It’s poetic in its prose. It’s biblical in its morality. It’s Arthurian in it’s tales.

There are 5,000 people in Letterkenny.

These are their problems.

That’s how every episode of the Jared Keeso-created Canadian sitcom begins, yet it would make just as much sense replacing “Letterkenny” with “Camelot” (other than some confusion around all the flannel and techno music). That’s because Letterkenny is our modern text of King Arthur, even if it has no aspirations to be.

After humble beginnings as a web series called Letterkenny Problems, the show was picked up by the network Crave in 2015. It has since run for 10 seasons with an 11th on the way. Both the web series and the show center around the fictional rural community of Letterkenny (based on Keeso’s hometown).

I’ll admit it’s a hard series to pin down at first. The pilot episode is baffling. Full of cryptic pattering patois, a rudderless narrative, and an ethos of juvenile machismo, but like the scent of blue cheese, there’s an intoxicating genius to its stench that keeps you sniffing. As the season progresses, it’s obvious that it’s much more than farts, fights, and jean-short fannies, and dismissing it’s ethos as “juvenile machismo” seems embarrassingly shortsighted in retrospect. It’s an ethos steeped in honor, and any hint of machismo is more accurately diagnosed as positive masculinity, a concept so foreign these days that it easily gets tossed out with the bath water of its toxic sibling.

It’s poetic in its prose. It’s biblical in its morality. It’s Arthurian in it’s tales.

(The Poetry of Letterkenny)

I don’t mean to suggest that it’s a one-to-one retelling of King Arthur’s legend, mostly because I’m far too ignorant on the topic to even make that claim. What I’m getting at are the core qualities that make King Arthur and his knights aspirational figures, and how that builds an ethos that acts as a path to goodness.

There are four of these core qualities:

• A shared code of conduct

• Honorable combat

• A community to protect

• External threats to said community

Not only does Letterkenny have those four qualities — those four qualities are the very heart of the show.

Don’t get me wrong. The show is childish as all hell. The four main characters of Wayne, Daryl, Katy, and Squirrely Dan spend their time sitting around the vegetable stand, debating topics like the difference between a one-knuckler, two-knuckler, and three-knuckler when fingering a dog’s bum, and how a man only has two knuckles when throwing  punch, but three when fingering said dog’s bum (it’s important to note that the fingering is for medical purposes). But what topics do you think King Arthur and his knights discussed over the round table? Which Harry Potter house they’re in? No. Between discussing battle strategies, they opined on pressing issues, like how a pornstar says “yes” in the throws of orgasm.

Wayne is King Arthur. Daryl, Katy, and Squirrely Dan, his knights.

Wayne runs the aforementioned vegetable stand and acts as the unspoken leader and moral compass of the group, as well as the community at large. He shepherds with a set of codes that come up consistently throughout the show. Among the most important are:

1. If a man asks ya fer help ya help em

2. Ya shouldn't air your dirty laundry

3. Ya shouldn't fart in front of girls

4. A friend backs a friend, and on that, you don’t bend.

5. More hands make less work.

The knighthood holds each other accountable for these codes, ensuring no one, not even Wayne himself, falters. And he does falter. Wayne isn’t without his faults, but even still, he’s the man we should all aspire to be. He admits when he’s wrong. He sets to make things right when he screws up, and even when he does screw up, you don’t mind because he’s had your back too many times to hold one against him. Wayne is the type of guy who finishes “chorin’” (chores), then heads over to his neighbor’s to help them with chorin’. Why? Refer to #5. He’s the kind of man who will help you even if he doesn’t like you, just because you asked.

I’m not saying that living like that will fix all your problems, but it sure as hell makes sure that you’re not one of them.

And what would an Arthurian tale be without combat?

In Letterkenny, combat is a path to friendship. It’s a conversation. It’s how they show each other who they are. Wayne is the greatest fighter in town, often having to deal with challengers on a daily basis, but a scrap is just a scrap, and it’s more often he gains a new ally after a tilt than an enemy. It’s a joust. After you knock ‘em down, you help ‘em up, then you grab a couple of cold ones together. Sure, there are some raspberries and black eyes along the way, but you’ll find less civility in some book clubs.

His only true enemy? Degens (degenerates) from up country. Interlopers looking for trouble. No sheriff needed. Wayne and his knights drop anything to take care of the degens from up country. And it’s not about simply looking for an excuse to fight. The degens, although disliked and distrusted, only get their licking after they’ve gone too far. These degens are nameless, faceless, and unexplained. They’re a symbol for the chaos that threatens Letterkenny. The danger posed by those with no code to live by.

It doesn’t take far into season 1 of Letterkenny to see that there’s something special at work. There’s the pulse of virtue underneath its many layers of fart jokes and sexual innuendo. It’s a show that challenges the classic view of masculinity as much as it participates in it. It says “if you’re going to be a man, at least do it right.”

We can’t all pull the sword from stone, but we can all answer the call when a man asks for help. I have to believe that that’s enough.