“I felt it was interesting to explore dysfunctional manhood, where it comes from, and how it kind of evolves over time,” says Gadd of why he was drawn to the subject matter of Half Man. “Why male camaraderie is so intoxicating for people, and why male bonds are so strong, but also why the repercussions of negative male behavior from that can be also extreme.” There are plenty of examples of the latter throughout the series. Ruben is prone to fits of mercurial violence that see him beat one of Niall’s school bullies to a bloody pulp early on; the show begins in the present day, when Ruben appears unexpectedly at Niall’s wedding, and punches him squarely in the face. But there are also moments of profound sensitivity. Even Ruben’s instinct to violently protect Niall hints at a deeper sense of kindness, however curdled it may appear.

“I wasn’t so much interested in just showing a violent man doing violent things all the time,” explains Gadd. “I was interested in contextualizing that behavior, and digging into why men have that bond.” It’s an almost molecular-level symbiosis that, despite the unending terror and torment, the duo are unable to escape. “People will say, you know, the show is about masculinity,” says Gadd. “But I sometimes think it’s about two men who struggle to love each other, and don’t really know how to do that.”

What consistently comes through is Gadd’s disinterest in making sweeping generalizations about manhood, or the state of modern masculinity, or indeed the ancient topic of male rage. (It’s worth further noting that Gadd says he was not thinking about the debate around the “manosphere” when he wrote Half Man, having worked on the series for some time: “I have no doubt that journalists and stuff might pull these words out of the show,” he says, “but I never really write with these external things in mind.”) Instead, Half Man is a deeply individual story about two very specific men, and all the flaws they contain. “I always think every single human being has problems, or struggles, and has done great things in their life, and has done bad things in their life, said things they regret,” says Gadd. Despite his anger and malignancy and the terrifying chaos to which he subjects the people in his orbit, even Ruben has layers. “He does some really bad things. But if the show is successful, you still have a pocket of love for him, even after everything he does. And I think that is the human condition.”

The result might be bleak, and often tough to watch, but it’s also very real — in the sense that Ruben, particularly, embodies the type of man that many of us have known and feared. “There’s a lot of debate as to why Baby Reindeer pulled in the viewers that it did, but I think people really recognized themselves in the characters, [more] than they’d ever care to admit,” says Gadd. “And in this age, it helps to pull TV down to this individual experience. I think it doesn’t happen enough, because there’s a huge groundswell of keeping subscribers, and keeping the masses entertained. But I think if Baby Reindeer, and indeed Adolescence, proved anything, it’s that people are really clamoring for hard stuff.”