All torque
Short & scrappy one this time.
Something I did…
Went on Esyllt Sear and Gareth Gwynn’s recent history podcast I’m So Not Over It to reminisce about playground activism, Cats and Um Bongo. Esyllt also decided I am a spy. Am I? Not telling.
Won Bath New Act of the Year. Here’s me with the big trophy. Love being referred to as “Brettingham” btw. Makes me feel like a naughty schoolboy.
Wrote this about the potential impact of LLMs on comedy writing, based on a combination of research, dabbling and (the fun bit) wild guesswork.
Added dates for my live work-in-progress at Camden and Edinburgh. Second and last weekend of August respectively. Feel free to say hi. If you’ve stuck out the newsletter this long I’m sure you’re lovely - or at the very least enjoyably deranged.
Something I heard…
I’m obsessed with reading about how TV comedy shows were written in the days before widespread word processing and the internet. I always remember a prominent comedy writer telling me that in the 1970s he never did more than three drafts of any script because it was just too much of a hassle to type the thing up more than three times.
Three drafts!!
Three!!!!!!!
So I was intrigued by Lise Mayer on The Comedian’s Comedian revealing that during the scripting of The Young Ones she, Rik Mayall and Ben Elton - writing on different continents - would plot the series together then split up and write two separate versions of the whole thing then smush them together.
And it was great.
So there.
Hm. My gut feeling is that sitcom writing is more amenable to this kind of cut-and-shut method of editing because of its fragmented nature (short scenes, multiple plot strands) and the relative importance of joke rate over emotional arc.
The same with stand-up (at least the last bit). Would be interested in other peoples’ experience? Wonder if there’s an example of a stand-up writing a 50 minute set in one go or a playwright smushing a play together from three different ones?
Exceptions always exist so there probably is.
Something I thought…
Something I saw…
Check out this crone, from Gogol’s ‘St. John’s Eve'.
“Her face as shrivelled as a baked apple…her nose and chin…like the jaws of a nutcracker!”
Top crone, 10/10.
Something I enjoyed…
Never longed for a subscription to ResearchGate more.
Something I liked…
If you’ve read Adam Bloom’s book about stand-up (which if you’re a stand-up, you probably have) you’ll recall his emphasis on the importance of persona…
“The perfect punchline can only exist if it’s coming from the right persona, and I believe that is the single most important thing a comedian needs to know. Woody Allen managed to sum this up in one sentence: “A comedian is a funny person doing material, and not a person doing funny material”.”
On that note, I really liked this post of his on Instagram:
“Persona has more to do with the look in your eyes than anything you’ll ever say.”
Yes!!
From my own experience (limited and being wildly over-leveraged here), stand-up is mainly about writing material that goes with the look in your eye.
If you write something funny but it doesn’t go with the look in your eyes it dies on the lips. Weird! People are very alert to some sort of distilled vibe in you which exists beyond words and it’s your job to locate this and exaggerate it which can be enlightening and confronting in equal measure.
Norm Macdonald is the peak example of this. Why is this funny? It’s like 90 percent eye vibes.
Comes back to 3/ on the below maybe.
Something I saw…
Speaking of vibes, I loved this tiny wizard on a lead from Fuseli’s ‘Titania and Bottom’ currently haunting Tate Britain.
Wikipedia offers no explanation for this specimen calling it “part of a group of beings of various sizes” which invites more questions than it answers. Apparently when Fuseli unveiled this painting it made everyone think he’d lost his mind, which I attribute mainly to the wizard.
Anyway, want.
“Magic me a Lamborghini or no walkies for you.”
Something I did…
In the last issue I said “Write to me with your problems and I will give you the worst advice possible.”
And someone did!
Bear in mind that I absolutely did not write this problem, but boy am I answering it.
STRONG ADVICE: “I got a new bike saddle for an embarrassing reason. How do I explain it to friends?”
Dear Luxury Filth,
I need your advice.
My friends told me that cycling on a men’s bike seat can damage your clitoris, so I bought an absolutely enormous padded bicycle seat to protect my undercarriage. My husband says it is ridiculous and looks like a clown seat.
I don’t want everyone to know why I bought such a big seat. What should I say when they ask about it?
Thank you in advance for your wise words.
ANON.
Dear Anon,
As far as I see it, you have three options:
1. Deflection
If anyone asks about the reason for your comically large bike saddle scream “It’s nothing to do with my clitoris, you sick freak!” and slap them. This will create the impression there’s another more palatable explanation for your padded bike seat which, for reasons unknown, you are not at liberty to disclose.
2. A ruse
A padded bike seat can function as a sort of velvet ring cushion for the female anatomy. But it can also be there for another reason. That’s right - a botched colonoscopy. Create an elaborate back story about how a struck-off doctor smuggled a kidney out of your backside during an operation-gone-wrong. Interlocutors may claim this isn’t medically possible at which point you can drop your trousers and make your bottom scream “are you questioning my lived experience” in an accent of your choice (I recommend Yorkshire). If anyone questions you, threaten to get “Russell Brand’s lawyers on ‘em pronto” while trouserlessly waggling your finger.
Et voila, your dignity is preserved.
3. The truth
In today’s world, openness about the female anatomy is regarded by many as a feminist statement. For this reason, carry a small flip-chart around with you at all times illustrating in vivid detail what happens to the female undercarriage in the absence of due care. Really go to town on this. Every single picture should look like the mugshot of recently disturbed hermit, a scheming goblin or a Tory MP who died on the loo. Know that by sharing this information you are doing your bit to educate our regressive society, as you can scream while being dragged out of a family BBQ waving your pointer like a deranged conductor. Top tip: hand out free bike seats to members of the audience, padded in inverse proportion to who you think has the toughest fanny. Your friends will thank you for the personal touch!
Please let us know how it goes.
Do you want me to give you the worst advice possible? Of course you do. Send me you problems, big or small, by clicking reply to this newsletter or posting them in the comments for all the world to see.
Also…
There should be a Whiplash-style biopic about this.
Weird to think that all Salieri needed to disable his nemesis was a trumpet. The kryptonite was sitting right there!
I wrote a bunch of other more serious stuff this month but it got out of control and will now be separate posts coming to you sooner than you could reasonably desire.
So, um. That’s the end of this newsletter.
You hang up first… no you!
As always, your letter is the best 20 minutes of the morning…thank you!