For three seasons of Kenny vs. Spenny, the two Toronto roommates pulled out all the stops to outwit each other. Militantly puerile but frequently ingenious, the reality TV comedy show has built an ardent following since its debut on CBC in 2003 (it’s now on Showcase). One of Canadian TV’s hottest exports, it’s also spawned imitations in Colombia, Germany, Israel and Turkey. But as Kenny Hotz and Spencer Rice explain, one-upmanship can be hazardous to your health.

You’ve just finished taping the third season. Do you need some time to recover?
Spenny: I’m going to my psychiatrist three times a week. Kenneth, you went a little too far this year.
Kenny: I don’t think I went far enough.

Having done so many shows, is the ante always getting higher?
K: Everybody’s kind of seen everything—how do I top making him eat my toenails, or making him think he has HIV?
S: I’m afraid I’m going to end up in a body bag.
K: Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you, Spenny. Not until the show is on its last legs. Maybe when we’re doing “Who can macramé more baskets?” as a competition, you should start watching out.

Are you afraid of doing serious damage to each other?
K: We have a certain responsibility to each other because we’re friends. People tell me, “I can’t believe you gave Spenny acid.” [One of Kenny’s most nefarious tactics, in the octopus episode.] Ah, we’ve done a lot of acid. Not that we’d ever do it again. The thing is, Spenny and I are filmmakers and artists—every single one of our shows is like a mini-film for us. And what we do isn’t as big a deal as Johnny Knoxville standing in front of a bull with a blindfold on, or Borat going in front of 3,000 rednecks and saying America sucks. If you think about it in the end, we’re wimps and we’re pussies.
S: When Kenny gave me acid, it was very upsetting. But now that I realize my brain is still intact, I think it’s amazing that we’re allowed to do it and that it cut together so well.
K: It’s a document of my scumbagged-ness, too. That’s a relief to Spenny, letting the world see exactly—
S:—what a piece of shit I have to work with.

Are you different people off camera?
K: There’s not much of a distinction, unfortunately. We wish everyone thought there was.
S: I’ve known Kenny since we were six. A lot of the stuff you see him do—the jokes, his general nature—is exactly what he’s like.
K: Do you remember Hinterland Who’s Who? This is the new Hinterland Who’s Who. We should be on the National Geographic Channel—our show is a cinéma-vérité look at a friendship that is willing to destroy itself for fame, entertainment and cash.
S: I see a deeper meaning in the show. Kenny, don’t interrupt me for two seconds while I say this, but I think Kenny—
K: [interrupting] Yeah great, so anyway—
S: I think Kenny represents the Enron attitude. His whole thing is to win at all costs. He thinks, “I don’t care what I do as long as Spenny is chewing my toenails at the end of the show.” I am on the other side of the coin: I’m moral in a world that tilts toward the immoral, and I get screwed for it.

It’s tempting to see the show as a matter of good versus evil. But it doesn’t really work that way, does it?
S: It’s a funny irony, because he gets labelled as the evil guy and I get the good guy label. But I’m only good relative to him. If you look at the record, I’m much more capable of doing severe damage than he is. And I am more capable of damaging him physically. It’s like a little kid poking a dog—eventually, the dog will bite. My buttons get pushed and at a certain point, I lose it.
K: I like to push buttons because the more freaked out he is, the more vulnerable he’s going to be.
S: Kenny grew up with an older brother who terrorized him. So he learned these survival skills. I was an only child, so when I became friends with Kenny, he did all this shit to me. I was the perfect mark because I had no defenses. I still don’t.

When you were first coming up with the idea for the show, did you think it might have so much mileage?
S: Yes. It’s different, it’s simple, it’s character-driven. And we’re very lucky with both CBC and Showcase, in that we’re allowed to go to these levels. People today don’t care about Titanic—they want to see crazy shit. But we’ve been doing this our whole lives, essentially, whether there were cameras around or not.