Meh-dea Mogulling – Commonly Pitched Comedy Ideas

 

Most great ideas start with a great idea (I’m amazing at this, I should do a workshop and charge one million dollars). But they also start with an absolute bucketload of terrible ideas. Or average ideas. Let’s call them meh-deas and that could become another brilliant media term for tossers like me and you to use. What may come as a surprise is that there are some very commonly pitched meh-deas. 

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I had an email from someone recently with their idea for a sitcom. I won’t say what it is or who it came from as that would be unfair and just because I didn’t like it doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of brilliance. You should see my folder ‘Awful Pitches of Yesteryear,’ it makes for terrifying reading.

What I don’t want to do is tell people is they’re wasting their time and not to darken my door again. Working on the characters, story and script can be a useful exercise, but to get any interest in an idea it has to have something unique about it. Does it generate a genuine reaction of interest when you mention it to someone? If so, that’s a good sign. You have to be a good reader of facial expressions or learn which friends or family members actually give you an honest opinion.

So here are a few concepts or settings that seem to occur regularly…

  1. An amateur dramatics society.
  2. Struggling actors in some way shape or form. I have a lot of sympathy for actors, it’s incredibly hard, the constant rejection is possibly even worse than it is for writers. Still, write about something else. No one cares. Except me. I care.
  3. A struggling indie band (or other genre, but indie bands seem to be a common one. Maybe that’s because the writer was once a songwriter in an indie band who wrote moderately amusing lyrics in a sub-Jarvis Cocker style. That was the kind of band I was in, anyhow) or a once successful band whose members are now living ordinary lives.
  4. The open mic comedy circuit. Loads of wannabe comedians are also wannabe writers, so it makes sense that they’d come up with this idea and there are loads of crazy characters on the open mic circuit, but… no one cares. I’m happy to admit that when I was a factual television producer and doing open mic stand up in London I thought it would be a good idea for a documentary series. It was not a good idea. It was quite dull and I quickly gave up on it.
  5. Two guys in their late twenties or early thirties who are getting nowhere in life. They probably share a flat and one of them has an ex-girlfriend who has moved on, but is still around. Or there’s a girl they’ve known for years they both fancy.
  6. A bar or pub. This is one where, of course, several comedies of various quality have been made. I really liked Early Doors, for example, and I have vague fond memories of World of Pub, which I should refresh. I also remember getting a script set in a bar which had something different in the writing — funny, weird and slightly surreal. I did develop and pitch it and it did pique the interest of a commissioning editor, but ultimately didn’t get through.
  7. A hotel or guest house. The legacy of Fawlty towers over this one (see what I did there, I should work in comedy). The really annoying thing about this setting is that, like the pub, it does frequently reoccur — there was Heartburn Hotel in the late nineties and more recently the children’s comedy All At Sea and comedy drama Edge of Heaven. Even more annoying for me is that I’ve got one. Yes, commissioners, I’ve got a guest house comedy and it’s, like, totally brilliant and I grew up in a guest house and then a small hotel, so it’s authentic and everything. I think mine is an interesting take on the situation (of course I do), but I’ve held back on pitching it at times because of all the above. Anyhow, you can see that I feel your pain.

There are probably many more and if anyone can think of any then do let me know. It’s not surprising that many of the ideas above get pitched frequently. Several involve links to other creative fields; so an actor, comedian or songwriter is probably more likely to want to create a sitcom than someone else. Others are simply recognisable, everyday places.

It can be a tricky conversation to have, because the writer might wonder why they haven’t seen the idea on screen. I think it’s a kind of self-fulfilling vortex of doom; because that concept has been pitched before and rejected, it’s more likely to be rejected when it comes through the door again. That doesn’t mean to say it can’t and won’t happen, but (and I know this is vague) it has to have something amazing about it. Eddie Redmayne has decided he wants to star in a sitcom set in a Plymouth guest house? Yes! (‘Oh, hang on, mine has a female lead character. No, it’s okay, we can change it. Or you can wear a dress, Eddie, it’ll be fine. Oh, you want to? That’s great Eddie, it’ll work perfectly.’).

As well as my list, often there are concepts that seem to be ‘in the zeitgeist’ (apologies for using the word and the quote marks, but it seemed the only way). So, you’ll be pitching an idea to a commissioning editor only to find there’s already something similar in development or there are other similar scripts floating around. For example, a few years ago there seemed to be quite a few stories involving young people moving back in with their parents – Hebburn was one of those of course, but a combination of a brilliant pilot script, the North East setting and a couple of other elements, such as the young couple having already married in secret, helped set it apart.

Others can be surprising. There was a period when I talked to a couple of writers who had really good scripts set in an arctic station or a moon base — it turned out there were a few similar scripts floating around and I don’t think any got made. A while ago I had an idea for a comedy set on a submarine. I was thinking about female personnel being allowed on board Naval vessels and how that would be interesting if it was the enclosed space of a submarine. Maybe I’m wrong, but I never pitched it because I started to think that a submarine is probably one of those settings. And I realised I didn’t really care that much about submarines and submariners — screw them and their hilarious life-threatening undersea shenanigans. Maybe I should just go back to the Plymouth guest house thing. Shit.

My advice is to either look outside what’s close to you or examine what’s around you more closely.

And does anyone have a number for Eddie Redmayne? Or an email would be fine.

 

If you enjoyed the post then you can delve further into my oeuvre and support my work by purchasing my music. The lovely Tom Robinson off of BBC 6Music says it’s good. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2016: The Media Force Awakens

Happy New Media Year.

It’s a new year and a new you. And a new me. This year we’re all really gonna make it. I absolutely guarantee it. Money back. Although, I am still largely working in old media. Except here, that is. Here is where, unlike all you millennials out there, I am a digital immigrant, culturally enhancing the online space with my grey matter (hair).

I thought I’d post a couple of things I’ve helped out with and like.

Here’s a rather brilliant short film I had the pleasure of being involved with a small bit. I’ve been really impressed by Meat Bingo’s shorts and project CS911346d, written by and starring Sanjeev Kohli, is no exception. They’re based in Devon, from whence I hail, and I had the pleasure of meeting up with the director John Panton and some of his talented collaborators in an Exeter pub just before Christmas. That’s the power of Twitter, which is how we first got in contact. I’m looking forward to seeing more from them, hopefully a feature sometime soon.

I first became aware of Meat Bingo through their collaboration with Michael Spicer who’s output online continues to be brilliant, original and funny. His latest work Rec 601. is ace. Here’s a preview clip – it’s one of my favourite sketches from the series. There are three short episodes on YouTube, so do check them out.

Why isn’t he on the telly yet? Maybe I’ll do a blog about that, but I hope his work finds it’s way on to the small screen soon and, yes, I am trying to help make that happen.

I hope those bits inspire you to do stuff. Write, shoot or whatever you want to produce. They inspire me. I’m releasing some stuff later this month, mostly music based as I’ve been working on some tunes which I’m really happy with. At the end of January I’ll be releasing We’re In This Together – my song about the (sadly) fictional kidnapping of George Osborne along with a video and ludicrous short story.

Please do contact me. I like hearing from people especially if they at least pretend that they’ve read, watched and listened to everything I’ve ever done. Many get in touch asking for advice on where to send their script or how to contact production companies. Here are a few blog posts that should help with that.

Help, I Need Somebody

Infotunity Knocks

How to Approach People…

May the force awaken for you in 2016.

Yes, I watched the Star Wars film over Christmas. I quite enjoyed it.

When you are asked for the impossible (or: They asked for the moon, so I turned around and…)

Sometimes a boss asks you to do something you know will be impossible and you feel like turning round, dropping your trousers and showing them your arse while shouting, ‘You asked for the moon, but you’ll just have to have the sun shining out of my arse.’ That approach very rarely works, I’ve found.

And I was reading an excellent book, Stranger Than We Can Imagine; Making Sense of the Twentieth Century by the brilliant writer John Higgs, and in it I came across a reference that reminded me of one of my darkest hours in television. Although it was quite funny.

In his chapter on growth, Higgs writes:

Consumers were made to keep spending through ideas like planned obsolescence, where products were designed to break early and need replacing. An example of this was the light bulb, whose life expectancy was reduced from around 2,500 hours to less than 1,000 by an illegal organisation known as the Phoebus Cartel, whose members included General Electric, Philips and Osram.

The phrase planned obsolescence sent shivers down my spine as I recalled the time I was asked to research an item on what my exec called ‘built-in obsolescence,’ which is the same thing, for the late nineties ITV Westcountry show Mad About Shopping. Remember it? A ten part series on retail in the region. Heady stuff, but ten episodes? I think we were getting pretty desperate for ideas after episode two. Also, I think it would have been a bigger success if they’d used the theme tune I proposed. Imagine a jaunty tune in your head and sing, ‘We’re just hopping, BONKERS, Mad about shopping.’ This was before Dizzy Rascal existed, so, maybe I’ve got a copyright case against him?

Anyhow, this exec had spotted a series in the Western Morning News, a regional paper, about household appliances that were still in use decades after they were first purchased; toasters from the fifties, pre-war kettles, vintage irons and an old lady with a fifty year old vacuum cleaner. Cue sharp intake of breath. The item was pictured with its elderly owner along with a bit of background and a quote that usually included them saying, ‘they don’t make them like they used to.’ And that’s what the exec said to me. Something along the lines of, ‘we know they don’t make them like they used to, it’s built in obsolescence, let’s do an item about it, Matt.’

Unfortunately I could find scant proof. John hadn’t written his book, Wikipedia didn’t exist and being based in Plymouth and working on a low budget multi-item show, I couldn’t hop on a train to visit the British Library. I struggled to remove this obsolete albatross from around my neck. The Phoebus Cartel, if I had found out about it, was consigned to history and in the white heat of nineties technological development, new and improved gadgets were constantly being launched. Does progress depend on obsolescence? I don’t know, although my budget hi-fi separates purchased around the same time from Richer Sounds are still going, while the De Longhi coffee machine bought only a few years ago has already gone for a burton, so who knows what the truth is?

I did find an academic who had done some research, but I recall it skirting around the area and with no hard figures relating specifically to obsolescence. Also he wanted payment and expenses well beyond the Mad About Shopping budget to come down to Plymouth to appear. Meanwhile I spent a great deal of time talking to Peter Carver, then Director General of AMDEA (The Association of Manufacturers of Domestic Appliances) who grew increasingly exasperated at my phone calls, telling me (and this may not be a direct quote), ‘all manufacturers are ace and yes they do make them like they used to, in fact we build them better than they used to, there’s loads of really cool gadgets that do loads of things better than they used to, so stop moaning.’ Essentially I struggled to make the subject work as a feature for an early evening regional television programme, but at least Peter took my ill thought out plans in his stride and with good humour.

The whole affair ended like a Phil Collins marriage…  by fax. It’s my number one favourite fax ever. Faxes used to be exciting but now they’re, for me and most people, a thing of the past — there’s built in obsolescence for you. The age of the fax machine may be over, but I kept that fax and still enjoy reading Peter’s brilliantly sarcastic missive.

AMDEA Fax REDACTED

Peter refers to the academic, whose name I have redacted lest it cause embarrassment. There’s no point redacting Peter’s. For a start he comes out of this pretty well and also it would be fairly easy to identify him. I love his quoting of my pitiful attempts to persuade him to come on the show.

I can’t remember how my bosses reacted to my failure to find the evidence that would shake the corporate world to its roots. Having worked at the production company, Two Four, for a while at that point, I think I’d maybe earned a small failure. In the end I think I was able to bin the item while perhaps suggesting a load of other impressive yet deliverable ideas for this fun packed television show. Mad About Shopping ran for a total of one series. Peter was right, we didn’t have another fifty years.

I’ve always enjoyed reading this fax as reminds me of the sometimes thankless task of the factual television researcher and how when you try and twist things to work in a TV format, sometimes they break in your hands.

The only advice I can offer from this experience is that when you are asked for the moon, don’t do a moon (unless that’s the kind of moon they asked for, in which case it’s industrial tribunal time) simply promise that you will build a rocket, pop off to space and bring the moon back. And then return some time later with something different, but equally impressive. Saturn, Jupiter or a Milky Way, for example.

250 to 1 – The Terrible Script Pitching Gameshow

They say the chances of anything getting on TV are as low as anything coming from Mars. But, just like those pesky Martians in War of the Worlds, still they come. Now play dramatic futuristic chords and Richard Burton’s apocalyptic voice in your head.

Last week I saw a tweet from TV and literary agent Julian Friedmann from the Broadcast Commissioning Forum and it stuck in my head…

Screenshot 2015-11-10 07.56.04

Okay, so those odds are actually a lot lower than the chances of inter-planetary invasion, but the telling point is that these are scripts coming from producers.

I’m not flagging this up to put you off. If you want to be a comedy script writer and you do what needs to be done – write a script, then rewrite it until it’s brilliant, write another, repeat process – then you won’t be put off. And you shouldn’t be. It’s a rejection business, but still they come. It’s simply useful to know the reality in the hope that it both ups your game and helps you to avoid descending into bitterness. If you get some interest from a producer in your script then this shows you are already doing well. Producers do pick up on good work and they want to get shows made. After that it’s a case of timing.

The reasons why those 249 scripts get rejected are many and varied. It’s all subjective, but those scripts will almost all be of very good quality. It’s very rare that I get a response from a commissioning editor that tells me the script I’ve sent is a load of balls. And often I’ll be told that they love the script, but…

a) It doesn’t fit the channels needs. Different broadcasters are looking for different kinds of shows and those needs change over time as shows get picked up or cancelled.
b) There is something similar in development – this can be very vague and can reference shows that don’t seem very similar at all, but this is because the channels have to look at the mix of shows. So what seems very different to you, isn’t to them.
c) There just isn’t a slot. There aren’t many slots for sitcoms, so they get filled.
d) They love it but can’t convince the genre boss / the channel boss / the marketing people (in the case of commercial channels).
e) The talent isn’t big enough. Channels are talent obsessed. And with understandable reasons. Of course it is very difficult to attach talent to your script and if you think it’s easy for even big production companies, it’s not. There’s probably a whole other blog on this, but there isn’t time here.
f) Insert other nebulous factor.

There are probably loads of other reasons, but that’s everything that’s come into my head right now.

I’m not sure what there is to learn from this, but it is useful to know. It doesn’t deter me and it shouldn’t deter you. It makes me want to develop more interesting ideas and find shows that are brilliant, different, and will make a mark.

As ever, good luck.

Got to go now, a Martian’s just turned up with a spec sitcom script. What are the chances?

My Toe Job Hell

I had an email a short while ago asking this….

‘Hi, I have a question. I am wondering if sitcom development/production companies ever search for story ideas or character development.

I worked in many joe-jobs and have a keen eye for observation. I am sure I could give extremely detailed descriptions of offbeat workplaces and the people who work there.’

Not sure what a joe-job is, but my correspondent is from Canada. Maybe it’s a typo and she actually meant toe-job. I hope not, although a sitcom about a toe-job obsessed employee in an offbeat workplace sounds like a winner. Thanks for the inspiration.

I’m guessing joe-jobs means average joe type occupations, yes? Anyhow, the answer to the question is, not really. Most writers and development producers work on ideas they come up with themselves, inspired by their own lives, characters they encounter or things they’ve seen or read. And if they come up with an idea set in a workplace they don’t have knowledge of then they’ll do their own specific research.

So there isn’t a job as such providing this kind of service in comedy. But then I spotted this today and thought it was interesting…

Holby City Researcher Job

Of course this is for a very specific type of show and a drama not a comedy, but it reminded me that there are a variety of jobs out there and experience on a continuing drama is a great way into the industry.

I thought it was interesting anyhow and if you didn’t, well whatevs, I’m getting back to my toe-job comedy. I’m worried it’s a bit cheesy though. Oh dear. It’s a Monday. Give me a break.

Should I film my script?

In a recent round of replies to people who have contacted me through the site one communicant said they were planning to film an episode of their sitcom script to put on youtube. I replied to say they should think very hard before doing this and not just plough ahead and film a whole episode. That makes me sound like an awful naysayer like that teacher at school who said you’d never amount to anything. I promise that, unlike Chemistry’s Dr. Gosling, I believe in you totally. You will amount to something and I am one hundred percent confident of that. Prove the doubters wrong. Don’t listen to the haters, people. They are planning to hate but I, for one, plan to shake the fuckers right off. And so should you.

Thing is, you absolutely should film stuff when you can. But be selective and take time to make what you shoot as good as it can possibly be. The email got the numbskulls in my head doing a little dance, so I thought I should post some advice to make them stop. After all I’ve shot stuff in an attempt to sell an idea and failed massively, so why not learn from my terrible mistakes. I have also shot good ones that did sell an idea so, y’know, in yer face Dr. G.

I shot a little taster tape for a mock-documentary idea many years ago and the first fatal error was to put myself in it. Now, I am a moderately competent performer who has commanded as much as one hundred pounds sterling to perform in Warrington to an audience who seemed far more interested in their booze, their mates, or someone they’d just picked up. There was an actual real life couple snogging right next to me totally oblivious to the musical comedy truth bombs I was dropping. I am that good. But I can’t act. The tape also featured the very talented Michael Spicer who can act. That was a good decision, but we still didn’t get the thing on television.

Anyhow, thanks for your sympathy, but let’s give you a few pointers picked up from years of flinging shit at commissioners to see what sticks. (Tip – never fling actual shit at them, no matter how much of a knob you think they are, it may stick, but it is unlikely to get you a commission.)

1) Why do you want to film your script? It’s worth asking yourself this because it should inform what you do. Do you want to film a whole episode just so you can show people you’ve done it or do you want to sell your idea and help it progress and maybe get it on television? I’ve touched on this before in a blog about how a show gets made. I’ve seen really good examples where film and television students have shot a whole series but, while that’s still a huge achievement, they’ve had the time and resources to do it and its contributed to their studies. I’ve seen many examples where people have just shot too much.

2) Is your script good enough? Every comedy starts with a script or at the very least ideas that have been written down that will hopefully create laughs. So if you find that people haven’t taken an interest in the script so far then maybe it needs work. Even if people have said it’s brilliant, it can still be improved. I recently read a blog by Dave Cohen about Paul Abbott’s approach to scripts saying he redrafts at least 15 times. Abbott’s phenomenally talented and he does that? The two might be connected. I’ve written something recently with a co-writer and I think we’ve rewritten it that many times and guess what, it’s probably the best script I’ve delivered.

3) What should I film? Obviously, everything I say should be taken with a pinch of artisan rock salt. But if you have a thirty minute sitcom script that you want to bring to life it’s probably a good idea to focus on a few scenes involving your key characters. Or take your episode and create a short (5-10 minute max) taster that conveys the characters and a key story or two from your episode. Generally speaking, short form content works best online and if you’re sending something to get interest from a production company or commissioning editor then they don’t need to see a whole episode. Part of the process of getting other people on board is that those people usually want to feel like they are involved in the project. And that doesn’t have to be prostratenegative, especially if they are showering you with riches or at least chucking a few pennies in the hat that lies prostrate before you.

4) How should I film it? For comedy the most important thing is the content, so focus on your script, your cast and the direction (more below). It’s so much cheaper and easier to film great looking shots now, so try to match up to that if you can as it’s always nice to see pretty pictures, but it’s frustrating to see beautiful camera work when there’s a lack of content or if the style has overtaken the gag.

5) Who should I cast? Not your best mate or your mum because there’s no one else available. Unless your best mate is Steve Coogan or your mum is Jessica Hynes. And not yourself unless you are Steve Coogan or Jessica Hynes. Obviously, you are most likely to be asking people for favours, but people tend to do favours for people they like whose work they like. So, if your script is good and you are not a bell end then you have a chance. That’s another reason for keeping it short. If it just means a few hours or a day rather than a week shooting a whole episode with no pay and Tesco value crisps for catering then, again, it’s a bit more appealing. One of the skills in making comedy is casting and it is an incredibly hard thing to get right. Everyone has an opinion and it’s rare that everyone agrees, but if you cast actors who don’t feel right for the part or who don’t make your wonderfully crafted lines zing then you’re up against it from the start.

6) How do I direct it? I’m no expert, but I’ve worked with some top comedy directors and I’ve directed some small things myself with big crews, small crews or just me and a camera. There are probably very long essays out there about directing comedy by people with far more knowledge than me, but for what it’s worth….

a) Plan it meticulously but be flexible on the day because it’s a shoot so things will inevitably go tits up to some degree. And by planning I mean your shot list and blocking. At least have an idea of what shots you need and what your actors are going to do physically alongside opening their mouths to bring your masterpiece to life. And if you’re producing the shoot too then make sure everyone knows where they need to be and let them know what’s going on. If things are taking longer than you expected and some actors are hanging around then take a minute to let them know otherwise it’s like being on a train that you sense is stuck in the middle of nowhere and is massively delayed but no one on the tannoy has told you what the hell’s happening and if they don’t soon you really are going to have stern words with the train manager.

b) Rehearse beforehand if you can. Having a chance to hear your actors read the script will help and you’ll want to do a rewrite, so give yourself a bit of time between any rehearsal and shoot.

c) Be nice and be confident. Directing is hard, but you don’t have to shout and be a dick. Do shout if you need everyone in a wide area to hear what you’re saying, but shout politely. And direct the shout up and over the crowd and not right in someone else’s face. Like you’re lobbing a ball underarm for someone to make an easy catch rather than chucking it at them like an over sugared child with a snowball.

7) What do I cut out? Everything that doesn’t quite feel like it’s working brilliantly. At this stage you are selling yourself and your idea, so you’re not constrained by episode timings. Two minutes of brilliantly funny material is better than a half hour peppered with an occasional lightening of the mood.

8) What do I do now I’ve finished it? Show it off. Get the best version you can on youtube or vimeo, publicly if you want people telling you that you should probably have been shot at birth, privately if you’d rather avoid the hell that is people on the internet. Politely email it to any contacts you have or can find. Similar rules apply to sending out scripts, which I’ve written about here.

That’s enough for now. Good luck with it. And wish me luck too. I’m about to film my dark, heartwarming, high concept, low budget, found footage, political, romantic, zombie, slasher tragicomedy about the Labour party leadership contest. Not sure I can make it funnier or more appalling than the real thing and I’ll struggle to find as many emotionless beings stumbling around randomly attacking things. Ah well.

Currying Favour

I know it’s hard to believe but many years ago I was moderately successful and pretty much destined to be the next D.G.  Or at least the next big Yentob.  And when you’re climbing up that greasy pole you will be forced into awkward situations such as the ‘business lunch.’  This post is about how not to have a business lunch.  Or maybe it’s about how to have a business lunch.  Either way, the first time you have something like this can be a bit stressful.

Before I was seduced by the bright lights of the comedy firmament I was a factual producer/director making such hit shows as Bailiffs and, well that’s the only one anyone watched to be honest.  Seen Future Fighting Machines? No, thought not. The channel it was on doesn’t even exist in the UK anymore (Bravo, if you give a monkey’s.)

So my Exec at Tiger Aspect asked me to Series Produce the third series of Bailiffs, which was exciting and a bit daunting for a comparative whippersnapper. I bought a new suit and everything. On reflection I don’t think it was a great fit and I looked a bit of a bell end in it. In fact I know that because I tried it on some years later in front of my sartorially honest girlfriend who looked me up and down and laughed. But at least I made an effort, right?

To freshen up the show we were trying to secure access to film the work of court enforcement officers and county court bailiffs.  So we were wooing the Court Service and this resulted in a lunch with the then head of said service. We’re talking high up, big cheese, civil servant. A massive mandarin. And mandarins are usually really small, so that made it a big deal.

The venue chosen by my Exec at Tiger Aspect was The Cinnamon Club, a very posh curry house.  Now, the thing about cuisine from the Indian sub-continent is that it can be a little on the peppy side. And I am one of those people who cannot deal with spicy food. I love it, but sometimes a dish that to other people seems fairly mild will blow my head off leaving me as sopping wet as a mop before it’s squeegeed or Tom Daley at the Olympics but with the grace of the first celebrity to get booted off his ITV show Splash.

The starters went fine and there was some idle chat about food and I seem to remember my exec and this very senior civil servant swapping dinner party recipes while I sat there very occasionally chipping in with an ‘ooh, yes that sounds lovely,’ and ‘Yes, I’ll definitely make a beef wellington when all my intellectual friends come round for dinner to talk about art etc.’  But then the main courses arrived and we were into the spicy meat of the matter, although I seem to remember I had fish. And it was the hottest fish I have ever come across.  And I don’t mean I wanted to take it home and play Barry White to it. I mean that it blew my head off in a spectacular fashion.

So, while we were trying to convince this knight of the realm (for he was a Sir) to allow us to point our cameras at his courtly employees I sat there sweating like the guiltiest man in the world.  Guiltier than a man caught red handed in a bang to rights open and shut case.

I had to excuse myself to freshen up and use the hand dryers in the loos to dry my matted locks. It was that bad. My exec was looking at me strangely as if to say, ‘Why did you order the super spicy hot fish?’ But I didn’t really have a clue what I was ordering, this wasn’t the Purple Mango down the road where I am familiar with the menu and can seek advice without fear of looking like an uncultured idiot.

As it happens I’m not sure there’s any great lesson in this tale. Sir Mandarin was positive towards our proposal and agreed that it could be useful for people to see the workings of the court officials and we were able to gain access to film. In spite of my low tolerance of spicy food, I had made two series of the show already, so was able to fill him in on the way we worked while mopping my brow, slurping huge quantities of water and constantly pushing my spectacles from the tip back to the bridge of my nose where they belong.

I guess the difference now would be that I would be open about the fact that I am a soft arse when it comes to spice and not be so tense about the whole situation. As a more mature person I am more relaxed in my sensitive skin. For example, I was at my friend Abdullah Afzal’s wedding in Manchester the other night and knew that there was a high possibility that, as one of only two white guests, I would be the sweatiest guest as soon as a morsel of food touched my lips. So I prepared the table of people I had mostly never met before for the situation.  And we all had a good laugh about it when my head exploded seconds after the impact of spice on tongue.

Here’s a pic of me looking sweaty, but thankfully not at a business lunch, with Abdullah (of Citizen Khan and Lunch Monkeys fame)…

2015-05-31 20.58.39

Help, I Need Somebody

Quite a few people have been in touch recently asking for advice, a shin up over the Great Wall of Media.  They’re all shouting for help and the honest truth is, to use the highly effective language of Ed Milliband when interviewed by Russell Brand, it ain’t gonna happen right away.  Most of these are requests for information on where to send a script or asking if they can send me their idea.

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I do aim to respond and I write this blog to offer advice and succour to people trying to get on in the media, whether you want to be a producer, director or writer.  Or maybe you haven’t worked that out yet and that’s fine too, I’m not sure I have.  It’s also a useful exercise in writing for me – it’s not totally altruistic.  I’ve got to bring home the bacon, eggs and quinoa.  Luckily there’s a NISA shop just a few yards away and their Heritage branded goods are excellent value plus my trip is 100% carbon neutral.

In spite of the wealth of information on this internet it can sometimes seem impossible to find simple things like contact details.  Where can I get the email of that one producer who will turn my script into a BAFTA winning series that will be remade in the US followed by a film spin off of that makes me millions?  It can be tricky, I mean I’ve never found that person, so if you do can you drop me a line with their email and mobile number?

Production companies don’t make it easy because if they did they’d be flooded with scripts they don’t have time to read.  Some have info addresses and if you send your script to that then it may get looked at, but probably won’t.  The best approach is to look at the companies who make shows you like, look at the credits, find the names of producers of shows you like.  And if you can’t find an email then you could send them a hard copy – I know, old school – but I’ve recently had scripts sent to me with a letter saying how much they like shows I’ve been involved in and asking if I would look at their script.  And I have, because I think, ‘Oh, that’s nice, they’ve made an effort so I’ll do the decent thing and read it.’

That’s why it’s so important to think about your approach.  Find people who might be receptive to the kind of show you are hoping to make, flatter them a bit and send them a short email or letter along with your treatment and script.  There’s a lot more detail on that here.  Some people have contacted me and just asked, ‘I’ve got a brilliant idea where do I send it?’ or ‘Can you help me get my show made?’ whereas others have contacted me thus, ‘Dear Matt, Thanks for your informative and witty blog posts, I have read every single one of them from top to bottom’ and then introduce their request.  Now, I try to reply to people who contact me, but which do you think I am more inclined to help?  It just makes sense and it’s exactly what I do when I’m trying to sell shows up the chain.

There’s some useful info in another post of mine with some links.  And, as ever, there is some very useful advice from James Cary and his Sitcom Geek blog.  You should read his posts after you’ve read every single one of mine from top to bottom.  No skimming, I know exactly how long you’ve been on the site, I see the stats.

If you enjoyed the post then you can delve further into my oeuvre and support my work by purchasing my music. The lovely Tom Robinson off of BBC 6Music says it’s good. 

New Year, New Me, You or Something…

Hello

Happy New Year.  Can I stop saying that yet?  I’d like to stop saying it. Not in a negative sense, it’s not as if I don’t want to send out positive vibes, but I’d just like to avoid January clichés.  And yet I know in about a week’s time I’ll be writing an email, struggling for a pleasant throwaway opening and I’ll think about typing something like that. Writing this will cement my resolve not to do so.

It’s a strange time in the world of television.  Unless you’re in production everything goes quiet from mid-December through to about mid-January.  Decisions unmade before Christmas will linger well into the new year and it can feel like being in limbo, purgatory or on hold to your internet service provider which has taken your direct debit payment, but still can’t seem to get you logged on for a week.

I’m trying to stimulate the start of the year by reading, writing, watching stuff and catching up with people in a bid to forge a great myth in my own head… that 2015 will be the best year ever.  The fact that I’m typing this in bed in no way negates the fact.  Absolutely not.

So good luck if you’re picking up on unfinished projects from 2014 or creating new ones.  I am confident 2015 will be your best year ever.

Oh and just a quick mention for Arts Emergency, a charity I support which is doing a great job campaigning for the arts and giving young people from less privileged backgrounds access and information about the arts and media.  Have a look at what they do.  It’s good.

Can I still say that I hope you had a great Christmas?

Best wishes to you all.

Matt

 

 

 

 

In the pipeline

Hello

It may seem that I have been rather quiet of late.  On here, that is.  In my non-virtual life I’ve been incredibly noisy.  I’m learning to play the pan pipes and the sound is far from soothing in the hands of the beginner.  The neighbours are getting irate.

In truth, I’ve been busy with many projects.  They are in a pipeline.  It’s too early to say if that pipeline will burst due to metaphorical pan-national conflicts or reach its final destination and pump television bronze into the homes of millions (or more likely thousands looking at modern day viewing figures).  We may yet have to be pleasant to Russia, say we’ll forget about Ukraine and ask them very nicely for their cheap television.

One thing I can tell you about is a BBC Radio 4 pilot from an excellent stand up comedian, Liam Mullone’s Disappointing World, which is being recorded in London on November 24th and if you want to be in the audience then click here.  It’s looking like a really good show.

Of course, I am very pleased indeed to have a passing association with the brilliant Detectorists, which will return for a second series.  It’s made by my company, but sadly I can’t claim any credit – a brilliant bunch of people, with Mackenzie Crook at the helm, made that happen and they are truly deserving of its success.

In the meantime I’ll have to keep you guessing on the other stuff I’m working on, because I don’t like talking about things that aren’t certain to make it our screens or at least to pilot stage.  There are usually several hurdles to leap and these can often cause a stumble, humiliation and a nasty graze.  A bit like when I ran for an old routemaster bus and fell on some tarmac opening a hole in both a recently purchased pair of jeans and my knee.

Also apologies for people who have contacted me and not received a response.  I’ll try to respond to questions in blog posts.  If you have sent scripts then I promise that I do look at them, but unfortunately can’t always get back to people.

I’ll try and get to a proper blog post soon, but right now I’m busy thinking of something profound to say about Dapper Laughs, but I’m just in despair.

Thanks

Matt