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Jamie Salter (Daniel Rigby) is a frustrated comedian who voices Waldo; a foul-mouthed CGI blue bear who interviews politicians on a late-night TV show.
Waldo’s segments are joyfully irreverent, an apolitical effusion of bad language juxtaposed nicely with the hard-hitting satire which surrounds.
Waldo is granted his own pilot, which the producers decide should consist entirely of harassing Liam Monroe (Tobias Menzies), the conservative candidate in a key by-election, at every photo opportunity.
However, when Jamie gets into bed with Monroe’s opposition and Waldo himself is thrown into the running, the events spiral out of control unnervingly quickly.
The story which follows is a startling warning to the dangers of capitalising on the fickle ebb and flow of social network trends for personal gain. It is a Frankenstein for the modern age, and the dangers of trying to please the mob are screamed silently from within; a desolate and wretched howl, buried in a taut script.
Rigby shines as a man in a sweat-drenched waking nightmare, bound to a role he despises, then having a greater calling rudely forced upon him. His producer Jack Napier, played by Jason Flemyng, exudes a slick overconfidence; a smarmy nature so plausibly greasy, he leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
Similarly, though both Monroe and his Labour counterpart Gwendolyn Harris (Chloe Pirrie) are the most horribly accurate depiction of that shallow, self-serving attitude often suspected of modern politicians, they are transfigured into rounded individuals, simply by virtue of a marvellously nuanced performance by both actors.
With sparkling dialogue by Charlie Brooker, the drama hisses and throbs with a jaded anger about the political class in Britain today; a witty yet despairing elbow in the ribs for those who seek power.
The Waldo Moment is clever and stupid in equal measure; a gleaming brown and golden cauldron of shouldn’t-laughs. The character of Jamie is the perfect foil around which to drape both hilariously grotesque sexual jokes and acute political observations, and is used to glorious full advantage.
Skilfully observed, with lashings of black humour and a satire so pin sharp that it can wound the eyes, the final episode of Brooker’s brainchild is a triumph of mockery. A gnarled tale, fit to rival the finest allegories plucked from throughout the ages.