Not many things grow better with age: cheese, wine and George Clooney spring to mind. One thing particularly unable to cope with the ravages of time, though, is the situation comedy. The whole point of a sitcom is to take a moment in time and derive from that a whole heap of canned guffaws. A Guardian article once laid waste to a collection of classics: The Office was dismissed as “knowing, ironic idiocy”; The Likely Lads was called out for having an “unreconstructed racist, homophobic misogynist” as a lead character.

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With that in mind, when I saw that Friends was finally available on UK Netflix, I thought: the internet is going to tear it to shreds. Not because it’s deserved, but because the online echo-chamber has become so predictable. The Independent reported people being disgusted by the “fat Monica” and “gay Chandler” jokes, finding the show “transphobic, homophobic and sexist”, and considering Monica’s consensual, happy relationship with a man 20 years her senior “uncomfortable in the wake of the Weinstein scandal and #MeToo stories”.

I’m sorry, but hold on. Friends is a show that was born pre-Twitter, pre-online activism, and before #HeForShe movements. So the fact that trans, gay, polygamous and liberal people are being shown with such depth and agency is remarkable. The show aired for the first time on my first birthday. I vividly remember years later poring over my mum’s VHS Friends box set after school, watching episodes back to back. Many of those streaming it now won’t know what a cassette is until Urban Outfitters starts ironically stocking them.

Before I watched Friends, I’d never heard of 'trans', and didn’t know about homosexuality or gender politics

Before I watched Friends, I’d never heard of “trans”, and didn’t know about homosexuality or gender politics. I grew up in Devon and – shockingly – the populace wasn’t especially progressive. As a “bossy” child, it heartened me to see Monica called it too, while being respected in her group. I watched as Joey, Chandler and Ross said “I love you” to each other, and struggled to match their emotions to how men “should” act. I watched Ben raised by two loving mothers, Rachel raise a baby unwed while working, Phoebe cope with her mother’s suicide, and discovered women as sexually free as men. Even now, that’s no small thing.

Yes, Friends is dated, and there should certainly be more minority characters featured, but the conversations remain relevant. People still struggle with size, sexuality, and femininity. In one of the most lambasted episodes, the ever-annoying Ross takes issue with a male nanny, asking if he’s gay, refusing to hire him, and mocking him to his friends. In i-D magazine, millennials interviewed read this as homophobic, which I’d agree with. What they omit, though, is that Ross later reveals that this is caused by his own issues with toxic masculinity, a struggle many men still face. How are we to progress into an educated, truthful place if we swap comedic dialogue for a monologue of prescribed rhetoric?

Conservative MP Kemi Badenoch said this week that social media is turning young people into puritans. I agree. When these attitudes are directed against something as innocuous as Friends, as Badenoch says, “Something has gone wrong somewhere.” Joey flirting with women who are equally keen has been called harassment; Monica dating an older man, akin to Weinstein. That’s not right.

One i-D interviewee said: “Things that are put out there as easy-watch comedy get too much stick in 2018.” I think it best we all make like the gang: flop on to a sofa, grab a cup of joe, and relax. We’ve more pressing conversations to have.

• Sarah Gosling is a journalist, writer, radio producer and feminist