The writing of the TWTTIN scripts is still being left stupidly late, but we seem to be getting more efficient at putting them together. I had done practically nothing except the show introduction at the start of the day, but me, Dan and Danny managed to bash out some fairly amusing ideas by close of play.
"What can we do about Garibaldi's March on Rome?" I asked Dan, "And don't say anything about biscuits."
"I was going to suggest something about biscuits," he replied.
"We can't do something about biscuits. It's too obvious."
I am very keen to try and keep things as original as possible (though sharp-eyed readers of the draft scripts in the downloads section of this website may notice that I am more than happy to copy the me of the past - hey it's a history comedy show and history repeats itself). Usually the first idea you will have is had by lots of people and I really hate sketches and jokes that merely employ a lot of well-worn formulas that often aren't even true. Jokes about dope usually include the phrase "late night garage", George W Bush always says words wrong, and then I got off the bus. It's hard to be original, though at least not all that many people are writing sketches about the Crimean War and the Unification of Italy, so maybe that gives us a slight edge.
I am quite hard on the other writers (especially Emma Kennedy) and reject their ideas, often before they've even had them.
"Well maybe there's a quickie in the Garibaldi/biscuit concept. Maybe we can find a slightly different angle. Let me have a go at it," I reluctantly conceeded.
Two lines into the sketch, I plaintively cried, "No, we can't do this, can we?"
"Go on. It might work," came the encouraging reply.
But then I found myself running with the theme. Garibaldi did all this stuff and all he got in return was a biscuit. How annoying would that be? I found myself suddenly chuckling at what I was writing. I found myself writing more. Within twenty minutes there was a five page long sketch. About the thing that I hadn't wanted to do. From a slightly unusual angle. And I thought it was funny. Well, tomorrow we will see. And you'll see if you're listening on Saturday.
I also wrote a sketch about how the OK Corrall got its name, which seemed brilliantly funny at the mad hour of 3pm, when your brain starts to lose all logic and sense, but which I read again later in the day and concluded was probably rubbish.
I kind of doubt that one will make it through. It's tough. All these sketches are like my children and it's hard to see one fail. But if it does fail in any way, like a child, you must leave it on the hill-side overnight to fend for itself. It's the only way they'll learn.
I wonder why no-one wants to have kids with me.
