He’s the "El Dude Brother" who never quite made it. If you’ve spent any time at all watching British sitcoms over the last two decades, you know Jeremy Usborne. Most people just call him Jez. He’s the guy living in the second bedroom of a flat in Croydon, dreaming of musical stardom while eating cereal out of a mug because all the bowls are dirty.
Jeremy Usborne isn't just a character. He's a warning.
What makes Jez from Peep Show so fascinating—and honestly, a bit terrifying—is how close he sits to our own worst impulses. We all want to be creative. We all want to avoid the "nine-to-five" grind that Mark Corrigan embodies. But Jez is what happens when that desire for freedom isn't backed up by any actual talent, work ethic, or moral compass. It’s a messy, hilarious, and deeply uncomfortable performance by Robert Webb that has aged surprisingly well in the era of the "gig economy" and "influencer" culture.
The Professional Slacker: Why Jez Never Actually Made It
Let’s look at the music. The "Curse of the 700 Club." The "Hair Blair Bunch." "Mama's Kumquat."
Jez spends nine seasons chasing a career in music, yet we rarely see him actually write a song. When he does, it’s usually something like "vaguely rhythmic" or a track where he just repeats the word "piss" over a Casio beat. He’s the ultimate manifestation of the Dunning-Kruger effect. He believes he’s a genius simply because he’s decided he is one.
- He’s constantly looking for the shortcut.
- The "Big Break" is always one dodgy deal away.
- He views regular employment as a personal insult to his soul.
There’s a specific kind of arrogance in Jez that hits home for a lot of people. It’s that feeling that you’re destined for greatness, but you’re just too "artistically pure" to actually do the work required to get there. In reality, Jez is just lazy. He spends Mark’s money, eats Mark’s food, and occupies Mark’s spare room while maintaining a sense of moral superiority. It’s a brilliant dynamic created by writers Jesse Armstrong and Sam Bain. They captured that specific British brand of middle-class aimlessness.
The Big Beats Manifesto and the Death of Ambition
Remember the "Big Beats" manifesto? "Big beats are the best, get high all the time." It’s a joke, obviously. But it also perfectly summarizes the Jeremy Usborne worldview. He doesn't want to create art; he wants the lifestyle of an artist. He wants the acclaim, the drugs, and the "vibes" without the grueling hours in a windowless studio.
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Honestly, if Jez from Peep Show were around today, he wouldn't be making techno on a cracked version of Reason. He’d be a failed crypto bro or a TikToker with 400 followers trying to "manifest" a luxury lifestyle from his roommate's couch. The technology changes, but the core of the character—the desperate need for validation without effort—is eternal.
The Moral Vacuum: Is Jez Actually a Villain?
People often talk about Mark Corrigan being the "bad" one because he’s cynical and occasionally predatory. But Jez is arguably much worse. Mark has a conscience that tortures him; Jez just has a stomach that needs filling.
Think about the dog.
The "Mummy" incident in Series 4 is arguably the darkest moment in the show. Jez accidentally kills a dog, then—to cover his tracks—ends up barbecuing and eating a portion of it to prove to its owner that it isn't "mummy." It’s a sequence that would be too horrifying for almost any other comedy, but because it’s Jez, we almost understand the logic. He isn't malicious. He's just so incredibly weak-willed and terrified of confrontation that he will literally eat a canine to avoid an awkward conversation.
Relationships and the "Life-Warping" Effect
Jez’s approach to women is equally chaotic. From his marriage to Nancy (mostly for a green card or just because she was there) to his obsession with Big Suze, he doesn't love people. He colonizes them. He moves into their lives, drains their emotional energy, and then wonders why things "got weird."
- Nancy: A whirlwind of religious mania and sexual experimentation that Jez couldn't handle.
- Big Suze: The "mental" aristocrat who represented a world Jez desperately wanted to belong to but never could.
- Elena: The Russian neighbor who forced Jez into a secret affair, proving he's just as capable of being a "bit on the side" as he is a lead protagonist.
He’s a shapeshifter. When he’s with someone, he adopts their personality. It’s a classic trait of someone who has no internal core. Without Mark to bounce off of, Jez would probably just cease to exist, like a physical manifestation of a void.
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Why We Can't Stop Watching the Trainwreck
There is a weirdly aspirational quality to Jez, even though he's a disaster. He has a level of "don't give a damn" that most of us, trapped in our spreadsheets and mortgage payments, secretly envy. He can wake up at noon, decide he’s a life coach (despite his own life being a shambles), and fully commit to the bit for 48 hours.
There's a scene where Jez is "working" as a life coach and tells a client that "the first thing to do is to admit that you're a total idiot." It’s actually decent advice, mostly because it’s the only truth Jez has ever fully embraced about himself. He knows he’s a mess. He just doesn't think being a mess should stop him from having a great time.
The Croydon Dynamic: Mark vs. Jez
The show works because of the "El Dude Brothers" bond. Mark provides the structure; Jez provides the chaos. Without Mark, Jez would be homeless. Without Jez, Mark would probably have a breakdown from the sheer pressure of his own repressed neuroses. They are two halves of a dysfunctional whole.
When you search for Jez from Peep Show, you're usually looking for those moments of pure, unadulterated "cringe." Whether it's him trying to join a cult because the "organs" looked fun, or him peeing in a kitchen drawer to avoid a social interaction, he represents the moments in life where we stop trying to be "good" and just succumb to our basest instincts.
Practical Lessons from the Life of Jeremy Usborne
While Jez is a fictional character, his trajectory offers some pretty solid "reverse" life lessons. If you find yourself nodding along too much to his internal monologues, it might be time for a bit of a life audit.
- Passion isn't a substitute for skill. You can call yourself a musician all you want, but at some point, you actually have to learn how to play the instruments.
- The "Easy Way" is usually the longest route. Jez spends more energy trying to avoid work than it would take to actually do the work.
- Friendship requires more than proximity. Parasitic relationships eventually sour. Even a "Mark" has a breaking point.
- Honesty is a labor-saving device. Half of Jez's problems stem from a small lie that snowballs into him having to join a cult or eat a pet.
What Most Fans Miss About the Ending
By the final episode of Series 9, very little has changed. That’s the genius of the show. There is no "growth arc" in the traditional sense. Jez is still in the flat. He’s still broke. He’s still trying to figure out how to be a person.
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The final shot of him and Mark sitting on the sofa, watching TV, is both comforting and deeply bleak. It suggests that Jez will be doing this until he’s 70. He is the eternal teenager, trapped in the body of a middle-aged man in south London. And honestly? There’s something beautifully human about that refusal to grow up, even if it results in a life of "minimal water and maximum beer."
To truly understand the legacy of the character, you have to look at how he influenced a generation of TV losers. He paved the way for the "unlikable" protagonist who we root for anyway. We don't want Jez to win—that would be unrealistic—but we want him to survive long enough to fail again tomorrow.
Moving Forward: How to Watch Peep Show Today
If you're revisiting the series, pay attention to the sound design of Jez's thoughts. The voiceover isn't just for jokes; it’s a masterclass in self-delusion.
If you want to dive deeper into the world of the "El Dude Brothers," your next step should be to track down the "Peep Show: The Scripts and More" book. It provides a look at the deleted internal monologues that were too dark or too weird even for the show. You can also find Robert Webb’s memoir, How Not to Be a Boy, which, while not about Jez specifically, touches on the themes of masculinity and failure that make the character so resonant.
The best way to appreciate Jeremy is to realize that he’s in all of us. He’s that voice that tells us to stay in bed, skip the gym, and buy a van to live in the woods even though we don't know how to start a fire. We just have to make sure he stays in the "voiceover" and doesn't take the wheel.
Next Steps for Peep Show Fans:
Start by re-watching Series 4, Episode 5 ("Holiday"). It is the definitive "Jez" episode, showcasing his descent from a simple canal boat trip into a literal nightmare of his own making. Pay close attention to the point where his self-preservation instinct overrides his basic humanity. After that, look for interviews with Robert Webb regarding his "sympathy" for the character; he often discusses how he tapped into his own younger, more directionless self to bring Jeremy to life. This provides a layer of empathy that prevents the character from becoming a mere caricature.