Blogs are strange thing aren’t they? Why do us ‘bloggers’ think the world gives a damned about what we think? Are we supremely arrogant or is there more to it?
Every time I sit down to afflict the world with my half arsed musings, I am acutely aware that I am performing an act of extreme egotism. In fact I’ve been feeling like that since I began in 2005 when my average blog consisted of twenty words and a hastily produced picture.
Today I’m going to tell you about my love of comedy, which is strange because I’ve not been feeling particularly jolly of late. Recently I received some bad news with regard to my day job, which will force me to leave and live on my wits – so I’ll probably starve.
Families fall into two camps: funny and serious. This may seem like a sweeping generalisation but I’ve done my research by looking through the windows of strangers and taking notes on my erect penis, as would a professional researcher.
Funny families spend a great deal of their time together trying to make each other laugh, they will quite often hug each other when the meet and are equally tactile with friends and acquaintances.
However ‘serious families’ are more the differenter. They are quite formal and probably never really get to know each other, even though they spend their life in daily contact. These families will rarely hug, preferring instead a speedy peck on the cheek and a small bequest in their will.
You may be surprised to hear that I come from a funny family. We were always making jokes, often at inappropriate moments. For instance my Mum and sister found themselves giggling at my Grandfather’s funeral when my mum compared a naked Terry Jones to the organist who was playing a solemn funeral dirge at the crematorium. Now don’t get me wrong, my Mother loved her father and she was distraught at his death but for some reason a joke becomes all the more potent when it is made in an inappropriate venue. In fact I’ve started doing gigs during rape and child molestation trials, just for the appreciative audiences.
As a child I was introduced to Monty Python and The Goons by my parents and later they would record episodes of The Young Ones for me because, being only ten years old, the BBC saw fit to put them on after my bed time. It was this dedication to providing me and my Sister brilliant comedy that led to me having an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of BBC and Channel 4 comedy and until a couple of years ago I would watch at least two episode of every new comedy show because first episodes are often a bit rubbish, because the writer is establishing the characters and at the same time attempting to crow bar a funny story around them.
There are notable exceptions to this rule: the most recent being ‘Mongrels’ whose first episode was every bit as brilliant and funny as the rest of the series. In fact I fell madly in love with the series half way through the first episode and am now one of its most fervent advocates.
Of course, had to stop watching every new comedy because most of them were so incredibly bad that I was at risk of self harming. However I do seem to have developed a pretty good instinct when it comes picking good television comedy and recently learned to ignore it at my peril, when, against my better judgement, I watched the first episode of Phoneshop. It was so horrible that I needed a stiff drink and a lie down.
A couple of years ago I started writing comedy scripts and sending them to the BBC and dealing with the rejection letters. To be honest I’ve never received a horrible rejection letter and the majority have contained detailed notes, a reason for rejection and an invitation to submit more, which is always useful. To date though I have never written a TV script, frankly I tend to find television an inferior medium to radio when it comes to comedy, probably because I love quite wordy exchanges, which have gone out of fashion on the telly.
I need to go, Tom has arrived and we have some whisky to work through.