Mrs. Doodle, a '90s housewife frugal in every possible way, finds herself tempted by a jar of gourmet strawberry jam a most extraordinary grocery store . . . .

A college student joins a group of revolutionaries to meet girls but ends up committed to their goals.

A taxi driver is befriended by a medium who tells him that a spirit is trying to communicate with him. Who is this spirit and what does it want?

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This is a documentary of interviews with music journalists and Jam fans, and including clips from the following tracks: Town Called Malice In The City All Around The World The Modern World A Bomb In Wardour Street David Watts Down The Tube Station At Midnight Eton Rifles Going Underground That's Entertainment, ... Plus More

With Jam, the TV follow-up to his Radio 1 series Blue Jam, Chris Morris focuses more on unease more than the satire of Brass Eye. Indeed, it's a moot point whether Jam can actually be categorised as comedy at all. Each sketch is steeped in a heavy brine of dark, ambient music (including Bark Psychosis, David Sylvian and Brian Eno), grainy imagery, fast-cut editing and slo-motion. Its mirthless, Kafka-esque scenarios feel like an attempt to morph into some new species of post-comedy that is more like the stuff of nightmares. The credits, in which Morris stalks the moving camera, uttering Lear-esque words of foreboding immediately announce that this "sketch show" is a galaxy apart from The Two Ronnies. 　　The appalled look on actor Kevin Eldon's face in the opening sketch of the series, as a young couple invite him to endure being buggered by a mutual acquaintance ("I need a break"), sets the tone. Rape, chemotherapy, wanton urination--as a naked "Robert Kilroy-Silk" goes insane in a sketch full of detestation for the oleaginous TV presenter--and recurring sketches involving callously authoritarian NHS doctors, all go to make up these annals of the bizarre and perverse. 　　Ultimately, Jam doesn't quite work, not on TV anyway. The repetition of the same, small cast over and over, broken up too briefly by Morris' own appearances (as a "country gentleman" living outside his house, for instance), coupled with the gruelling treatment of the sketch material makes for a psyche-probing, jaw-dropping experience--but in parts also a nullifying and strangely predictable one. Morris's "failures" are far more interesting than most people's successes. --David Stubbs

With Jam, the TV follow-up to his Radio 1 series Blue Jam, Chris Morris focuses more on unease more than the satire of Brass Eye. Indeed, it's a moot point whether Jam can actually be categorised as comedy at all. Each sketch is steeped in a heavy brine of dark, ambient music (including Bark Psychosis, David Sylvian and Brian Eno), grainy imagery, fast-cut editing and slo-motion. Its mirthless, Kafka-esque scenarios feel like an attempt to morph into some new species of post-comedy that is more like the stuff of nightmares. The credits, in which Morris stalks the moving camera, uttering Lear-esque words of foreboding immediately announce that this "sketch show" is a galaxy apart from The Two Ronnies. 　　The appalled look on actor Kevin Eldon's face in the opening sketch of the series, as a young couple invite him to endure being buggered by a mutual acquaintance ("I need a break"), sets the tone. Rape, chemotherapy, wanton urination--as a naked "Robert Kilroy-Silk" goes insane in a sketch full of detestation for the oleaginous TV presenter--and recurring sketches involving callously authoritarian NHS doctors, all go to make up these annals of the bizarre and perverse. 　　Ultimately, Jam doesn't quite work, not on TV anyway. The repetition of the same, small cast over and over, broken up too briefly by Morris' own appearances (as a "country gentleman" living outside his house, for instance), coupled with the gruelling treatment of the sketch material makes for a psyche-probing, jaw-dropping experience--but in parts also a nullifying and strangely predictable one. Morris's "failures" are far more interesting than most people's successes. --David Stubbs

Adapted from Blue Jam, a late night radio show, Jam consists of six shows featuring dark humour and unsettling sketches unfolding over an ambient soundtrack. From the mind of Chris Morris.

Reiko Himekawa is a female detective at the Metropolitan Police Department. Reiko doesn't come from an elite background, but she has risen fast through the ranks with hard work and gain the respect of the policeman.

High school music teacher Beth Landon puts herself on the line when she invites world-famous country singer Jason Keith to perform at her rural town's Strawberry Festival. A one-hit wonder with a horrible rep for cancelling shows and copping an attitude, Jason isn't what Beth's mother, Eileen, considers a reliable musical act for the beloved festival, which she is proudly hosting with her good friend Ruth. Beth, reigning as Strawberry Queen, attempts to stick up for her favorite singer, but when she finally meets Jason face-to-face, it becomes obvious it won't be easy. But behind Jason's rock star image, he's hiding a secret about his past that could turn his tanking career around. Along with his manager Ray, Beth convinces Jason the festival gig is a great way to revitalize his career and win back his audience appeal. As Jason spends more time with Beth, his attitude starts to fade as they each encourage the other to realize their deepest dreams as talented musicians.