Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Doctor Who Costume Exclusive...

Oh, dear me. This blog’s just turning into a long list of apologies, isn’t it? I might as well be Catholic. Oooh, a Catholic confession blog: That’d be good. I’d read that.

So, I went to the Red Planet workshop over a week ago now, and yet I still haven’t written anything about it. It’s an experiment. I’m trying to simulate print media in a digital age. That, or I’m lazy. Actually, not even that: busy.

Jason wrote up his experience of the whole thing here, and he summed it up very well, rendering this post not only late but redundant. Tony Jordan is a palpably friendly person who sums up the noun ‘bloke’ so well he could be a dictionary definition. He also swears more than I do, which makes me just a little bit jealous. And it’s hard to bring together any sort of summary of points as it’s all just a big inspiring blur, mixed in with a lot of unrepeatable language and scurrilous accusations, and I’m not really all that blokey, so I doubt I’d have it come across very well.

Nevertheless, in short: know why it is you write; don’t bother trying to follow the crowd, as this will leave you both behind the crowd who have inevitably moved on and will also leave you artistically bankrupt*, and... um... oh, don’t worry about budgets, that’s producer’s job; fight your corner but know when to back down. I’m sure there was more.

Oh, and at one point he read my mind.

I also met someone who used to script-edit Doctor Who, which I didn’t realise until someone pointed out later; this was best for all involved as I didn’t have an embarrassing fanboy meltdown, and said person didn’t have to endure an embarrassing fanboy meltdown.

And on the subject of Doctor Who... I know what the 11th Doctor’s going to wear. Nobody’s told me, it’s just one of my very mild superpowers. Because, and prepare to gasp – gasp – in excitement, I accidentally dress like the Doctor. Not in a fanboyish way, despite such insulations in the previous paragraph, hoh no. Just, about a year before a new Doctor takes the reins, I start dressing like he will. This has started recently, by the way. I didn’t run around school with a leek attached to my jumper. But, when the new Who came on the telly, I noticed the Doctor was wearing my clothes. Not hard, back then, of course, it was just jeans and a leather jacket and a t-shirt. But nonetheless, that’s how I dressed.

I decided to smarten up a bit, somewhere towards the end of that series, and got myself a nice brown suit, which I wore with an overcoat, and because I’m not really fond of proper shoes, basket-ball shoes. A pattern was forming.

Then, with no real impetus, I changed to a blue suit. And low and bloody behold, so did the Doctor.

So, what will Matt Smith be rocking up in following his jaunt around the Tardis' mammoth wardrobe? Well, I’ve just started wearing a brimmed cloth hat. My money’s on the Doctor bringing the hat back. Also, if the current state of my hair’s anything to go by (somewhere between Yahoo Serious and Ollie Barbieri from Skins), he’ll also be sporting a white-boy ‘fro.

Although, now I come to think of it... I do seem to be describing Tom Baker. See, that’s the problem with accidentally dressing like Timelords: Nonlinearity.

And, now, ladies and gentlemen, Mitch Benn:



Oh, also That’s How I Roll has made it through all the various stages of execs and is going to Danny Cohen for next Thursday, blah blah blah.

* He didn’t actually say “artistically bankrupt”, that’s where my blokiness falls down.



Monday, 18 May 2009

Grammar, good and bad...

Oh, well, hello. Yes, it's been a while. What can I say? I've been busy. Well, I say busy. I saw Emperor Palpatine* walking around Truro the other day and I've been gurgling in a fanboy-overload coma since. True.

So, and this shows how long it has been since I last posted here, as everyone is now far more interested in the shocking - shocking - idea that politicians are corrupt... but anyway, swine flu then. Swine flu, as it applies to word misuse.

Pandemic. I hate that fucking word. Or, I hate how it's been misappropriated. Everyone was "possibility of a pandemic" this, and "fear of a pandemic" that. Now, a pandemic is where virtually everyone in the world gets a disease. As a football commentator who I've now forgotten the name of** said, "always leave yourself a couple of octaves spare in case they score a goal". Fear of a pandemic is fine, no, natural, but it's getting ahead of itself a bit, isn't it? How about fearing an epidemic first? Or even an outbreak. Leave yourself a couple of octaves***.

Also, I saw the new Star Trek film at the weekend, and grammar-defenders**** who are offended by the incorrect but poetic split-infinitive of "to boldly go" will at least be pleased that Spock managed to use "infer" and "imply" in the correct senses, whilst discussing time travel paradoxes. Hurrah.

* * *

And in Oli land... That's How I Roll episode 2 has been written, and rewritten and tweaked and twisted and then ironed out and at some point probably tumble-dried, and now it's begun it's journey up the ladder of execs (who are all very nice). Fingers crossed.

I'm off on Wednesday to Flitwick for the Red Planet seminar, which I will try and report back from, then into London village in the afternoon to meet my agent and generally swan about a bit, and then on Friday, I have my first meeting off the back of Seven Spires, in Bristol. Don't worry, I won't list every other (at this point imaginary) meeting I get, but, y'know, firsts and that...

* Don't you tell me it was just Ian McDiarmid, I won't have it. It. Was. Emperor. Palpatine.

** Seriously, I know nothing about football.

*** For the record, I do not think that a lot of people dying of flu would have been a 'goal'. My conceit got away from me a bit. I just don't like the word pandemic. That is all.

**** Nazi's a bit harsh, isn't it?


Sunday, 3 May 2009

A brief thought on inspiration...

You'd think that having Top 100 Stand-Ups on in the background whilst trying to write comedy would be inspiring. It's a bit more like trying to have a kick-around whilst David Beckham watches.

Yeah, I know nothing about football. He's the only guy I know.