Warming Up

Another two hours in Caffe Nero in Welwyn Garden City this morning and the Everything Happens script 2 (draft1) was completed. Maybe it’s because WGC (as the cool kids call it) feels like an alternate universe, or maybe it was the deadline, but it feels amazing to have got this (hopefully) out of the way before the Fringe. Now we just sit back and wait for the rejection, before crying and finally picking myself up off the floor to have another go at something else.

But there’s still hope for now. And I have a little bit more than usual, partly because this the furthest I have got with a TV script in 10 years and partly because it does feel a bit different that the others that didn’t make it. Perhaps it’s because I now have the actors and their cadences and skills in mind, but it was incredibly easy to write dialogue for them and to work out how they (or versions of them) would react in certain circumstances. Oh no, I’ve dared to dream. That will make the disappointment even more crushing.

With that done I could concentrate on packing and preparing for the exodus north. I popped to the florist to buy a bouquet to thank my inlaws for putting us up (and putting up with us) this last fortnight. I took photos of a bunch outside the shop to send to my wife to make sure she thought they were appropriate. I don’t know what my worry was, all the bouquets were just flowers. It wasn’t like I’d picked one in the shape of a massive cock (I am in touch enough to know that wouldn’t be right, so discounted that display immediately). My wife agreed that my flower taste was excellent, the biggest insult to a man that is impossible. I like manly things like, I don’t know, cars? Not flowers and bubble baths with pink bubble bath. I don’t know why I mentioned bubble baths. I definitely didn’t have one today. And if I did it would have been with a manly coloured bubble bath. Chrome coloured? Shit coloured? Obviously I am a man so I do know what colour would be appropriate.

The ladies in the shop (all of them were ladies, proving my male/female flower liking hypothesis) asked me whose opinion I had been looking for, clearly having seen me photographing their displays and correctly assuming I was doing so to get a confirmation on my choice and not because I was a pervert who likes to masturbate over pictures of flowers. I imagine if you were that kind of pervert you’d probably just buy some flowers and masturbate over them directly, cutting out the middle man of the flower porn site. But what if you were in a desert? Or couldn’t afford to buy flowers and were fed up and jaded with the flowers in your garden? Or just wanted to experiment with a new kind of flower without the commitment of purchase? Or couldn’t get off with actual flowers and only liked pictures of them?

Anyway luckily I am not attracted to flowers or fascinated with the idea of experimenting to see if it’s possible for a human to fertilise one. And if I was attracted to flowers I would be attracted to living flowers growing in the ground, not dead, murdered ones. That would be sick.

The unmanly flower ladies were very friendly and said they liked my Mr Greedy T shirt. I admitted that it was particularly appropriate for me and one of the ladies said she’d like a Little Miss Greedy one. I wondered if there was a Little Miss Greedy. Would that even be allowed in a society that is so sexist (I am doing all I can to change this)? I thought that it might be something they steered away from for girls (even though there is nothing more wrong with a greedy person with a vagina than a greedy person with a penis - and by the way I won’t stop until all Little Misses and Mr Men are anatomically accurate, mainly because I want to know what Mr Tickle’s knob looks like).

Anyway it turns out there is a Little Miss Greedy so either well done to Roger Hargreaves or how dare Roger Hargreaves treat eating disorders in such a casual manner (depending on whether I feel like starting a Twitter mob today or having a Twitter mob start on me). Though Little Miss Greedy was originally called Little Miss Plump and they changed it due to political correctness gone mad (though Greedy seems a lot worse than Plump to me).

My mother-in-law liked the flowers. Though to be fair, she didn’t know what I had done to them.

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