Canadians are in our midst, but we rarely detect them until they let slip a charming “sorery” or an errant “aboot,” causing Americans to titter like they heard an accidental fart in church. Most Canadian comedians have successfully scrubbed their lingo for fear of being found out; perhaps that’s one reason why The Kids in the Hall comedy troupe never quite took off in the States. Sure the television series lasted for five years (1989-94), but it was constantly shifting from CBC to CBS to HBO, never quite finding a home or more than a cult following. I first happened upon “The Kids in the Hall” series in the mid-’90s during a Comedy Central marathon. The kooky fivesome—Scott Thompson, Dave Foley, Kevin McDonald, Bruce McCulloch and Mark McKinney—were an innovative oddity after the formulaic “SNL” skits—always ready to don a dresses and flaunt their Canadian weirdness (like a sketch that involved rustic furriers who set traps in offices to collect suits instead of pelts).

Now all five seasons are collected in a 20-disc set that’s daunting even for a diehard fan. Decide to start at the beginning and work your way through methodically (my favorite approach), or dip into episodes randomly and delight in McKinney’s Head Crusher (an office worker who obsessively crushes people’s heads between his finger and thumb) or Bruce McCulloch’s Kathy (later of Cathy & Kathy), who explains how she once dated a blues singer named Mississippi Gary (McKinney in black face). The Kids are one of the few sketch comedy troupes to consistently employ the monologue, and Scott Thompson’s Buddy Cole makes his first insurmountable appearance right there on disc one. But don’t stop there (or get deterred by the dreadful, misogynistic Cabbage Head—who unfortunately persisted as well), proceed and discover Chicken Lady, Hecubus and Apathetic Cop.

The first three discs of the first season only offer cast bios (and really, the only one of the Kids to ever “make it” is Dave Foley, who starred on “NewsRadio” and is now host of “Celebrity Poker Showdown” on Bravo), until disc four included a 38-minute featurette, “An Oral History,” combines interviews with The Kids and good-ol-boy producer Lorne Michaels to give us some background. There’s also 30 minutes of live performances from the Rivoli Theatre. But really, stick to the sketches. That’s where the odd-ball, Canadian humor does best.