Inside No. 9 May 2026

Co-created by Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith (the infamous duo behind The League of Gentlemen and Psychoville ), Inside No. 9 is an anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained play, featuring a new cast, a new setting, and a new horror. The only connective tissue is the number 9 (the door number of the location, the time on a clock, or a character’s shirt number) and an unwavering commitment to the darkly comic, the tragically human, and the twist.

To call Inside No. 9 a "horror" show is reductive. It is, perhaps, the most versatile chameleon in television history. Over nine seasons (and counting), the show has produced episodes that are pure slapstick farce, Shakespearean tragedy, gothic ghost stories, psychological thrillers, and even a silent comedy. But beneath every mask, the heart of the show beats with a singular rhythm: things are never what they seem. The genius of Inside No. 9 lies in its constraints. Most dramas need hours to establish character, build empathy, and execute a plot. Pemberton and Shearsmith do it in the time it takes to microwave a meal. inside no. 9

This structure is the show’s signature. It lays out breadcrumbs that seem like charming set dressing—an old stain on the carpet, a locked trunk, a painting of a shipwreck—only to reveal, in the final seconds, that the breadcrumbs were actually a summoning circle. While every episode is a polished gem, a few have achieved legendary status, demonstrating the sheer range of the series. The 12 Days of Christine (S2E2) Widely considered the show’s masterpiece, this episode transcends genre. It follows a single mother (a heartbreaking Sheridan Smith) over a year as she renovates an apartment. Strange, silent men appear. A man in a bird mask watches from the street. Time jumps erratically. Without spoiling the ending—which is one of the most devastatingly beautiful fifteen minutes of television ever produced— The 12 Days of Christine is not a horror story about a monster. It is a horror story about memory , grief , and the fragility of consciousness. You will cry. You will re-watch it immediately to catch the clues you missed. A Quiet Night In (S1E2) A ballsy artistic gamble. This episode contains virtually no dialogue. Two bumbling burglars try to steal a painting from a minimalist modernist house while the wealthy owners argue upstairs. It is essentially a live-action Tom and Jerry cartoon directed by Alfred Hitchcock. The physical comedy is flawless, the tension is unbearable (a silent trip to the bathroom has never been so suspenseful), and the payoff is a shaggy-dog joke for the ages. Bernie Clifton’s Dressing Room (S4E2) Perhaps the show’s most emotionally raw installment. Shearsmith and Pemberton play two aging double-act comedians reuniting thirty years after a bitter falling out. For 25 minutes, it is a masterstroke of tragicomedy—sad men in bad wigs telling old jokes in a community hall. Then, a single camera move changes everything. The final duet to "The Time of My Life" is so achingly sad and joyful that it functions less as a plot twist and more as a punch to the sternum. It asks the question that haunts the entire series: What price do we pay for art? The Riddle of the Sphinx (S3E3) A love letter to cryptic crossword puzzles. A student sneaks into a professor’s garden shed to cheat. What follows is a Rube Goldberg machine of betrayal, Greek mythology, and literal cannibalism. The episode contains a twist so elaborate that the characters literally speak in crossword clues to foreshadow it. It is brutal, intellectual, and utterly insane—a reminder that Pemberton and Shearsmith are students of the macabre, paying homage to The Twilight Zone and Tales of the Unexpected . The Rules of the Game (And How They Break Them) A crucial element of Inside No. 9 is its adversarial relationship with the audience. The writers know that modern viewers are jaded. We expect the twist. So, they have learned to weaponize that expectation. Co-created by Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith (the