Brass Eye is not satire for casual viewing. It’s satire as weaponry. Morris takes the British public's trust in authority, celebrity endorsement, and media sensationalism, and systematically dismantles it. Episodes on drugs, crime, and moral decline aren't just parodies. They are indictments of a society that believes anything it's told if delivered with enough sincerity.

It's 1992, and Britain is barely recovering from Thatcher’s hangover. John Major is on TV, his voice a droning reminder that politics can bore you to tears before breakfast. Loaded magazine is emerging, making irony fashionable again. Into this bland landscape of early-morning telly, dominated by the sober seriousness of GMTV and BBC Breakfast, bursts The Big Breakfast, irreverent, chaotic, and exactly what you didn't realise your mornings needed.

Into this quietly anxious landscape arrives Daria. MTV was broadcasting TRL and pushing bubblegum pop like NSYNC or Britney Spears, yet here was a cartoon about a sarcastic teenage girl who wore boots, scowled at pep rallies, and dismissed popularity as a tedious con.