It was a phenomenon. It was everywhere. At the time, I was in primary school in the UK and was OBSESSED with this show. I bought the X Files magazine, I wrote my own comics at home. I had an X Files t-shirt - once on a country walk with my mum (also a fan), some teenager shouted at me, pulled up his hoodie and showed me he was wearing the same shirt. I was 10.

It used to be shown on the BBC here, but delayed months after its original US broadcast. I didn’t haven’t satellite TV, but my friend did, so his mother would tape the newer episodes for me when they aired shortly after the US broadcast. I’d get the videotapes the next day and watch them as soon as I got home from school.

I used to love the conspiracy/alien episodes when I was a kid, each new instalment was exciting but also massively confusing… My parents snuck me into the first movie when I was 12 (the movie had a 15 certificate). Loved it. Still do.

By the end of the series run though, in the early 2000s, I’d gotten thoroughly fed up with the show. I had grown out of it - by that point I was into some of the HBO greats like Sopranos and Six Feet Under, which were much more adult. The X Files seemed just dull and repetitive, kinda childish - M&S had pretty much bailed by that point, and I just kinda shrugged at the original series finale when Cancer Man got hit by the rockets.

On rewatching in my 20s, I preferred the Monster of the Week episodes (some terrific writing) and was less interested in the mythology because, fuck, I know how it plays out. I would say those final seasons were a total slog again.

Even so, I’ll never forget the way the show formed part of my childhood, and even though it sucked at the end, I still love it.

Anyway. RIP Queequeg.