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It’s 44 years since the first episode of Last of the Summer Wine was broadcast. What is remarkable, given that that was about old codgers even then, is that Peter Sallis is still with us. Admittedly he’d have been only a couple of years older than I am now when the show started, but back in those days 51 was very, very old.
It’s also remarkable that someone as great and well-loved as him managed to get through 2016. I think that pretty much proves he is immortal. I don’t want to tempt fate (and do not believe that my written words have any power to change anything - unless Sallis reads this and has a heart attack when he realises how old he is) but if he isn’t dead yet, then I don’t think he will ever die. Either that or he is hanging on until Ian Lavender goes, so that he can be the King of being last surviving main player in a beloved sitcom.
Nice to think that (if I wasn’t so unhealthy) there might be another 40 years of work ahead of me and that it’s possible to get a defining role in your 50s. Reading about myself on Chortle this morning I was struck by how much stuff I’ve got on at the moment. I mean it’s actually slightly crazy. What’s crazier is the lackadaisical way I am approaching the work, but nothing changes there. I did some work on Relativity (need to get four first draft scripts done in next three weeks), and was really enjoying myself, but every time I hit a slight brick wall I would stop and argue with some idiots on Twitter or check the internet for other important stuff. Why is it so hard to apply yourself as a writer, even when it is fun? Why do I insist on leaving everything to the last minute? Why is grass green?
No point in asking as I think it’s the lot of nearly every writer, though there are some who can happily sit down at 9am and write til 5pm and not take a break.
I have let opportunities slip through my fingers and I really don’t want to do that again. And I appreciate how incredibly lucky I am to be writing something that is actually going to get made (especially after writing so much stuff that has never seen the light of day). If you ignore the rest of the world and all the other people (which everyone else seems to be doing, so I thought I’d join in) then 2017 has the potential to be a great year, with Relativity and As It Occurs To Me definitely heading for broadcast and Everything Happens getting further than I’ve got with anything of my own on the TV for a decade. But with all that to do, plus a Best of Tour, writing a new stand up show for Edinburgh and doing another 34 RHLSTPs (plus some bonus stuff) I just wonder if I am going to find time for any snooker. As you will see from this blog over the years and from stuff other comedians say, it’s very easy to be negative about how things are going. But I had an odd thought today and it’s one that realistically I should have been thinking for the last 30 years. I am actually doing OK. I am successful. Not as successful as some other people, of course, but actually making a success of my career. It’s sort of pathetic that that is a revelation to me and that it took me seeing someone else basically writing out what I’d written in my last newsletter to be able to see that.
Even if all these things fail (and God knows I need a couple of them to fall by the wayside if I am to enjoy time off with my family), I am doing well. And what I like about what I am doing is that it’s all self-generated and every project is markedly different: (not entirely but partly) sweetish family sitcom, a more ballsy sci-fi sitcom, a knockabout sketch show, a polished stand up show, an interview show, me playing myself at snooker and commentating on it. That’s fucking crazy. Not the snooker, the amount of stuff that’s happening.
On top of that, I am happy.
How the Hell is my own success a revelation to me? Why does it feel strange to admit it?
I might not feel so successful at the end of the month when I’ve missed all my deadlines and the TV sitcom is turned down (last night I dreamt we were 30 minutes from the record of AIOTM and I’d written nothing and we were trying to knock something together - it was nice of Liam Neeson to help us out, though his sketch turned out to be nonsense in the cold light of day). And when I realise that my whole comedy career relies on me maintaining the gossamer-thin facade of failure. Still it was nice while it lasted.
RHLSTP with Big Tom Davis (from Murder in Successville) is now up on video and audio. If you want to pay 3p a podcast then head here and donate a pound (or more) a month. If that seems a bit steep for 60+minutes of entertainment (a ludicrous 0.05p per minute) then you do also get a secret channel of backstage interviews, a badge, emails giving you notice of guests in advance and entry into a monthly draw where you can win some amazing and weird prizes. Plus all three of your pence will be ploughed back into making more podcasts for you to enjoy. I know, I know. I don’t know where I get off on this.
