It's all in the title

Damn it, I've spoilt the next tv secret by giving it away in the heading. Just like most tv shows do nowadays.

tv secret: it's all in the title

Sorry to repeat myself but there is a format and I'm sticking to it. Ooh, there you go, another one.

tv secret: always stick to the format

No matter what don't vary the format. It's always a mistake, whether it's a primetime quiz show (anyone ever really enjoyed 'celebrity' versions of Millionaire or Weakest Link?) or a bad daytime show where old ladies are encouraged to flog off items of huge sentimental value to hit a pretend financial goal- er, I mean to "get that gazebo in the garden they've always longed for". Yeah, right...

Back to the first one, and the reason I mention it is the tendency of shows to have ridiculously eye-catching titles. Apologies to the kind-of-thought, there is swearing involved. The broadcasters carefully replace the real words with '*'s but I'm not as hypocritical as them.

"FUCK OFF, I'M A HAIRY WOMAN"
"FUCK OFF, I'M SMALL"
"FUCK OFF, I'M GINGER"

Are we seeing a pattern here? It's almost as if the F-word is a brand, like Panorama or Dispatches. Personally I don't like anyone telling me to fuck off, whether they're a hirsuite woman, shorter than Tom Cruise or as red-headed as that unfunny arse with the prosthetic chin. Whasssisname. Avid Merrion! Him. I actually gave him his first break on tv. I'm really sorry.

Anyhow, some non-rudey programme names...

"HELP, MY DOG'S AS FAT AS ME"
"MY MAN BOOBS AND ME"
"THE 34 STONE TEENAGER"

And that's just The Licence Player-Funded Lovely And Wholesome Public Service Broadcaster BBC Three. Not forgetting Channel 4's actually-very-good-despite-the-punsome-title TOURETTES DE FRANCE. They (or was it Five) also had the Best Title Ever- THE MAN WHO GAVE BIRTH TO HIS TWIN. I mean, who wouldn't watch that? I did. It wasn't very good.

Here's what the producer who makes these shows would say about titles:-

"Well, with the EPG and listings being so cluttered, we need to stand out from the crowd. It doesn't affect the integrity of the piece at all, just means press and PR and the audience will kinda sit up and take notice, yeh?"

Arse.

Yes it might get an audience but it's simply not big and not clever. People will tire of THE BOY WITH THE BIGGEST BOLLOCKS IN BRITAIN or THE WOMAN WHO ATE HER CAT eventually. The law of diminishing returns comes into it - what do you do next? (Horrible thought - it's the word 'LIVE' on the end...)

I do have a personal axe to grind - I've come up with the best title ever and have almost flogged it to every broadcaster. It mixes property (hey, everyone loves property shows!) and entrepreneur-ship (hey, everyone likes Dragon's Den and The Apprentice with S'rallen!). Well, I say that. I haven't actually got a format yet, just the title. But if you come up with a format then I'll split it 50:50 with you. Go on.

One word:-

PROPERTUNITIES.

It's a winner...

Don't phone, it's just for fun...

So I've waited a wee while before posting anything about the phone-in "scandal" that's "horrifying" every single viewer in the land. To summarise:-

• Quiz Channel Scandal! No-one answering the phones and the answers are fiddled! GASP!
• Premium Rate Rip-Off! People calling in after a winner has been chosen! SCREAM!
• Votes Ignored Horror! Not every vote counted for some show or something! OOOF!
• Even Blue Peter Is Crooked!

Err, except... well, none of this is a surprise. Surely.

Quiz channels - does anyone really think that the presenter is standing there waiting for someone... anyone... who can give the answer to PRIME MINISTER OF BRITAIN: TONY _____. Of course not. They're simply not answering the phones, totting up the £1 and £1.50s until they've made a whacking great profit. Then they answer.

The other way is a bit sneakier, admittedly; "add up all the 'p's to make a total amount of money", with pictures of coins and words. And when it said 25p it means you add in 1p for the 'p', then 5p for the 5p then 25p as well. I think. Or something. Anyhow, it's not the obvious answer. But they kinda sorta make that clear.

These are channels that show exactly what most people who work in tv think of the audience.

tv secret: tv folks always think tv viewers are rubbish

It's wrong, of course, but there you go. Most viewers are rubbish. Hence the high ratings for ridiculous farmfest Emmerdale and all those "ooh it's the Fifties and here's a lovely old song" dramas Sundays at 8pm on ITV1. But not all.

Back to quiz show channels. They're designed for idiots or drunks. As the latter (and arguably the former) I've sat and watched The Mint on ITV1 at three in the morning for quite a while. Best question ever: "Fill in the blank: DOUBLE _______"

How the presenter managed not to piss himself when a Yorkshire lass answered "Ah'd sey 'double ennn-ten-drey'" I will never know.

Double entendre she meant. It, surprisingly, wasn't there. Next answer was "penetration". Well, it might have been. I was too busy snorting wine out my nose laughing at the first answer. But it makes a better anecdote.

All I'm saying is forget about these things. They exist to make money and that's that. If people are gormless enough to pay, remind 'em on every call, limit them to ten calls and then cut them off. Simple.

Now the thing about the rest of it - the uncounted votes, the people ringing in and paying after a winner was chosen, the wee kiddie made to pretend he'd rung in on Blue Peter... that's down to one simple fact.

tv secret: there's not enough money to make anything much any more

So the staff are overworked and make mistakes (naughty Blue Peter producer), the phone companies are kinda ignored a bit (naughty racing show I've never heard of) and the techie systems don't work properly as they're not funded that well (naughty ice dancey thing). And normal, every day tv shows are full of stupid "What's the colour of an orange?"-style phone-ins to make money for everyone as the advertisers are spending more and more on annoying intermaweb popups and viral YouTube nonsense.

There now follows a proper moral note. Please be assured they'll be few and far between - hey it's the telly, there ain't no morals there - but this really gets on my wick (as we used to say up North)

In the USA, the most money-grabbing, consumerist society in the world, most tv shows have to use free telephone numbers as premium rate lines are banned. Who Wants to be a Millionaire?, funded here by expensive calls by wannabe contestants, is free to call there. As is their version of Strictly Come Dancing, Dancing With The Stars (go ex-Mrs Macca there!). And even American Idol.

If Americaland doesn't ring every penny out of the poor viewers, it says to me maybe we shouldn't. Just a thought.

Happy weekend everyone. Watch Harry Hill's TV Burp, if you can, it's genius. And no, I don't make it, and yes, I'm slightly annoyed that I'd been pitching a show about tv to tv for years (to universal "oh, viewers don't like shows about telly" comments) and no-one wanted it grrr. Still though. When he turns to camera and says "there's an hour of my life I'll never get back" I so know how he feels...

How to get a job in tv, part #3

So I've just told Legendary Bastard, the boss of this station I want a job with, that one of his show ideas was rubbish. Fatty and Skinny, his two deputies, are staring at me half-smiling. I realise all three of them are enjoying watching me squirm as Mr Bastard starts to speak.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(laughing and striding around the little room)
My idea eh? Really? Why the fuck did you listen to me? I’m a fat burnt-out old twat. I know nothing, you bloody arses. Not like your whizzkid ‘ere. I’ve leave him to you. And I do want that fat bitch off air today. If I see her vol-ooooo-minous arse pillows on my channel one more time, I’ll kick your arses right out of ‘ere and into a week next Thursday. Kapishe?

SKINNY
Yessssir. Done. And I’ll see you later about these interviews yeah?

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(going to leave)
No you fucking will not. [LOOKING AT ME] You’re hired my son. [SAD FACE] It’s the least we can do. Any poor soul who’s sat through their woefully inadequate programming deserves all we can do to help. When can ya start?

ME
(no idea what’s happening at all really)
I dunno… got to give a month’s notice-

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(opening door to leave, to Fatty and Skinny)
Get this regionally-challenged twat ‘ere in two weeks, no less. And for Christ’s sake, send ‘im down to Asda to buy a tie. Bloody telly types, I dunno. All fucking woofters…

LEGENDARY BASTARD WALKS OUT LEAVING THE DOOR OPEN.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(bellowing at massive volume)
Oi shit-for-brains. Come here. [A HASSLED-LOOKING BLOKE WALKS UP] I saw that sad excuse for a sports show you allegedly produce.

THE BLOKE IS LITERALLY QUAKING. UH-OH.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
That airhead bimbo presenter you’ve got referred to a certain footballing genuis as "Wayne Looney”. Anyone would think she was some tart you hired ‘cos of her pert buzooms and poutin’ lips, not a seasoned sports journalist-ette. I want a tape of that show NOW. I have to show it to ‘im upstairs, the [CROSSES HIMSELF] Lord Almighty Chief Exec.

THE HASSLED-LOOKING GUY DRAINS OF ALL COLOUR AS LEGENDARY BASTARD PAUSES FOR COMIC EFFECT.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(smiling broadly)
He’ll piss his straightlaced little pants. Oh, and for fuck’s sake, make sure she wears low cut dresses. She was wearin’ some polo neck thing last night. [BIZARRE THRUSTING GESTURE] Fruit on the stall, that’s what she’s there for. Right, where’s that mingefaced news editor? I wanna word…

THE DOOR CLOSES. FATTY AND SKINNY LOOK AT EACH OTHER. I AM BOTH BEWILDERED AND DELIGHTED.

ME
So I s’pose we should talk money then.

FADE OUT

Try and decipher anything from that and win a cheese. Maybe the advice “ooh, get drunk and lippy” isn’t what they say in careers lessons at school, but in the real world it worked a treat. But what do I know?

Yes, that’s right, fuck all. See tv secret #001. Next time, secret #002 will tell you why the current phone-in fuss'n'furore has been an open secret in tv for years...

Uh-oh...

So I'm being interviewed for a big job on a small channel. I'm drunk. I'm sitting behind a now open door, being incompetently assessed by Fatty and Skinny, Head of Programmes and Head of Programming respectively. Or vice versa. The reason I'm behind a door is that their ultimate boss, someone I'll call Legendary Bastard, has just burst into the room complaining about some diet show that's on air. This man is terrifying, even to a drunkyard like me... especially when he asks who I am...

Note: contains rude words. Very rude words.

SKINNY
(literally shaking with terror)
Er, he’s [FUMBLES FOR MY CV BUT ALL HIS PAPERS FALL ON THE FLOOR], um, here for the development job… been interviewing all wee-

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(looking me up and down, then out the window)
Uh-huh… [IRONICALLY] glad to see you dressed up for us, made an effort…

FATTY AND SKINNY LAUGH NERVOUSLY. I’M GRIPPED BY A SUDDEN DESIRE TO SAY SOMETHING. I DON’T KNOW WHY, BUT I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING. SHIT. WHAT AM I DOING?

ME
(so shit-scared I’m dead brave)
Where I work this is ‘dressed up’. If I wore a shirt and tie as well as a suit, my boss’d think I was going to a funeral or something.

LEGENDARY BASTARRD
(cocked eyebrow, a little surprised)
Well being interviewed by these two twats, I bet you wish you were at a funeral, eh?

ME
(my mouth off on a journey to fuck-knows-where)
Hmmm… dunno, they’re doing OK… not sure about their first question though.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(smiling at me now)
Yeah? Why’s that then?

ME
(what am I doing?)
“How would you improve our channel?”

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(roaring with laughter)
Fuckin’ hell. Fuck. Ing. HELL. Not a good question. I’ll tell you the answer, my son. Get shot of a certain useless Head of Programming and an even more pointless Head of Programmes. Tweedle-bloody-dum and Tweedle-fuckin-dee here.

SKINNY
(doing a ‘smoking a fag’ sort of gesture)
Well boss, certainly couldn’t disagree there. Marvellous plan.

FATTY
(nodding sagely)
Sounds like a winner to me. Consider it done.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(leaning real close to me)
And what did you say to that fine question, may I be so bold to ask? How would you improve this veritable Rolls Royce of a network, hmmm?

ME
(well I may as well try the truth)
To be honest I was flailing about trying to think of something to say when you burst in here and saved me.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(faux-serious look on his face)
Saved by me eh? Now that is fuckin’ desperate.

ME
(say something proper you idiot)
I’d scrap that diet show as well. The presenter woman’s not only fat but the show’s useless too. Completely unoriginal. Seems like a stupid idea to me.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
Let’s fire the ‘erbert who came up with that stupid fuckin’ idea. ‘Oo was it, eh?

SKINNY

(that fag-smokey thing again)
Well, boss, it was yours actually.

Uh-oh.

My Weirdest Job Interview Ever

So I'm about to be interviewed for a pretty senior if not particularly specified role at a small if infamous TV channel. It was run by a man who had a reputation for being a bastard, supposedly one of the nastiest men in the meeeja. He once fired an astrologer by writing her a letter starting “as you’re no doubt already aware”…

He had very strong old-fashioned opinions on everything, from hangin’ and floggin’ to woofters and nonces. He even used those words. Out loud and everything – not common in PC-telly land. And, buried deep in some snidey meeeja article, was a quote from him about how people should be smartly turned out, suited’n’booted, because it means you know who’s the boss and who’s the work-ex kid. Not easy even then but there you go.

I was wearing a black suit that day as I’d had a pitch meeting in the morning, but with a white T-shirt underneath. Hey - it was the mid-90’s, it was trendy. I also had a ponytail but let’s not even go there.

So off I go to this interview totally sozzled (see last post), dressed incorrectly, not really prepared and with a sense of dread. I was to be interviewed by the Head of Programmes and the Head of Programming - already I’m confused. I’ll call them Fatty and Skinny, not particularly for legal reasons… more for my own amusement.

And let’s do a script here. I like writing them.

INTERIOR: TV CHANNEL / DAY
SMALL OFFICE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FRANTICALLY BUSY OPEN-PLAN SPACE. HUNDREDS OF YOUNG PEOPLE WITH FRIGHTENING HAIR ARE BUZZING AROUND IN THE SICKENINGLY BRIGHTLY COLOURED OFFICE-CUM-STUDIO.

FATTY AND SKINNY ARE ‘INTERVIEWING’ ME AS I SWEAT PROFUSELY, TRYING TO DRINK MOLTEN LAVA FROM A MICROSCOPICALLY THIN PLASTIC CUPPETTE. IT’S WHAT PASSES AS COFFEE HERE APPARENTLY. OW. BURNEY.

FATTY
(looking at his notes - ie one question)
OK then, so… erm… how would you improve our channel then?

ME
(completely blank)
Well, it’s difficult… um… not that it’d be difficult to improve this channel hahah… I don’t mean that it’s shit, and it has changed a lot in the past few weeks and-

SKINNY
(looking up from my CV)
Ah, you’ve seen our channel then?

ME
(puzzled)
Um… yes, I’ve got it at home.

FATTY
(laughing)
Fuck. No-one else we’ve ever interviewed has.

SKINNY
(smiling weirdly to Fatty)
Shit-ola. The bleedin’ cat’s out of the preverbial, ain’t it? We’ll have to come clean.

FATTY
(to Skinny, laughing even more now)
Too right me old mucker. We’ve been rumbled. Can’t pretend we make anything of quality to this ‘un, can we?

ME
(sipping the lava – ow, bad idea)
Wha…?

JUST WHEN I THOUGHT IT COULDN’T GET ANY WEIRDER, THE DOOR BURSTS OPEN. IT’S LEGENDARY BASTARD , THE MAN IN CHARGE OF THE CHANNEL. FATTY AND SKINNY SHUFFLE UNEASILY, OBVIOUSLY IN MORTAL FEAR OF THE MAN.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(barking orders)
OK listen ‘ere you wankers, we need to get shot of that stupid fat-arsed bint and ‘er boring as fuck ‘lose weight’ show. No-one, and I repeat no-one, wants to watch a big fat cow harp on about the joys of dieting. If ‘er diet is so good, why is she so fuckin’ lardy, eh? EH? [NOTICING ME] Who’s this ‘erbert ‘ere then?

---

Needless to say I was terrified. But the upshot was even odder...

OK, so no-one knows anything and the tv business is odd and badly run. Here’s an illustration why. It’s my second ever job interview in telly. The first one was frankly disturbing, involving a semi-famous yoof tv presenter doing a poo in the boss’s desk shortly before I got there. I’ll tell it later obviously.

I applied for this job for no good reason whatsoever. I was doing fine, heading development for a medium-sized independent tv production company, doing pretty much what I fancied most days.

“Indies”, as these companies are know, are the lifeblood of tv. There are thousands of small ones (with no work) and ten huge ones (with all the work). My job was to think up ideas, write ‘em up, sell them to my boss, rewrite ‘em up, pitch them to channels, rewrite yet again, and then oversee production of the show if someone was fool enough to buy it.

I worked across everything, from daytime to kids, gameshows to entertainment, even some comedy and drama. One day I’d be writing up Afternoon Country, a show, er, for the afternoon set in the country (“Today, it’s lambing time on the farm. And Leslie Ash makes a thing with a doily”); the next I was writing a gameshow; the day after a soap set on the Moon.

As I mentioned before, my mates had all legged it, all but one. He was about to run off to make millions on the interweb. It could be argued maybe my friends wouldn’t have all left if I’d got lots of interesting series commissioned for them to work on but let’s not go there.

I’ll stop the anecdote here to interject with another tv secret, one so important it’s just come to me:-

tv secret #002:
few people last more than six months in any tv job

We usually count the duration of jobs in dog-years. I’d been at this place for nearly twenty dog-years and was therefore like Brucey, The Chuckle Brothers or Helen Wagner. Google her, go on.

Anyhow, my one remaining friend was leaving the next day. So I sent off for this ridiculous job of being dead senior in a brand new channel. No chance whatsoever but - hey - what’s the harm? My CV must’ve looked good as I got a call the next morning and they wanted to see me that afternoon. But it was also my mate’s leaving do that lunchtime, and I had to go to that. Oh dear.

05 things I did to prepare for my big important interview

1 Drank a pint of beer;
2 Drank another pint of beer;
3 Had a half of beer - hey, I might get a new job later, careful;
4 Thought fuck it, and had another pint of beer;
5 Had a vodka and coke to take the smell of beer away.

As you can imagine it was an eventful interview... ah, and have to end here as I've got an actual workthing to do and everything.

Ok, day two so better get on with it – here’s a tv secret. They’ll come randomly and irregularly throughout this blog, but to be honest this is the core one:

tv secret #001:
like everyone else in tv, I haven’t got a clue

Simple eh? Once you realise that no-one has any idea what they’re doing in tv, the whole mysterious universe becomes crystal clear. Questions such as why does Davina McCall exist, what is the difference between a ‘+1’ and ‘2’ channel on digital telly and why anyone thought it a good idea to make a reality series packed with all the people you hated from other reality series… well, you can stop fretting now.

It’s because no-one has the faintest idea what they’re doing.

Do you feel better now? I know a weight lifted off my shoulders as soon as I realised that I wasn’t alone in my vast all-consuming cluelessness. I was dead chuffed at getting by, managing to busk it on my wits alone with no instinct or knowledge or experience to call on, until I realised everyone else was the same.

And then I thought, shit, I could actually do well at this telly lark. And, by and large, I have. Marvellous.

That doesn’t make this blog a sham, I promise. I’m not sure what it is - hey, I’m only on the second installment, it might be a masterpiece - but it’s not fake or false.

That’s what tv is. Fake and false.

So, ergo, I’m being all profound or something. I even used the word ‘ergo’.

Getting started..

So I’m sitting at my desk at the tv company I run, and have a brief pause inbetween management issues, accounts, pitch meetings, admin issues and the ten minutes that leaves for ‘creativity’.

And the phone rings, it’s a mate of mine who I used to work with in tv but left for the much fatter salaries of the evil PR industry. He’s a good lad though, kind enough to dress up like Jesus in a show I made for fifty squids an episode. His fee AND the budget for the remainder of the show. It was for Sky in 1993, what can I say?

(Good job no-one watched that show, imagine the press coverage as a pretend Jesus beats some twelve year-old at a video game then starts talking about how he owes it to his father and the poor defeated kid must be in love with Satan…)

Anyhow, he’s got a favour to ask. I sigh. I know what it is. His nephew wants-

“-wants to work in telly and can I have a word?”, I say.

He’s surprised I’ve twigged but it happens all the time. The fact is that of the fifty or so of my peers I started working in tv with I’m the only one left. Everyone else has gone off and got a proper job somewhere else.

They get good hours, career structures, security, pensions, benefits and so on, important as they get older and gain mortgages, wives-husbands-partners, kids, pet, bellies and ear hair. But do they get to ask someone to pretend to be Our Lord and Saviour and wear a manky wig on the telly, I ask you? No. So there.

The whole point of this anecdote, if there is one, is that I’ve been in tv for fifteen years now and I do actually know quite a lot about how it works. That fact came to me as I reeled off the do’s, don’ts and fuck-no’s of working in the industry to my mate’s rather dim- sounding nephew.

(Although it turns out the nephew is tall, good-looking, posh and went to university with a BBC bigwig’s daughter. I’m sure he’ll do just fine.)

---

Hence this blog. Over the next however-many-weeks I'm going to impart secrets, gossip and random jottings about the world of television. As I still want a career in this business I won't be putting my name on this. That would be madness.

If you want a job in telly - and far too many people do - then maybe I can be of help. Or maybe not. Hey, I haven't got much of a clue, apart from some randomly jotted down secrets and a store of anecdotes from my can't-remember-where-I-left-my-phone-but-can-remember-that-outrageous-party-in-1994 memory.

So, coming next time...

(Do people do trails and tasters on blogs? Not on the ones I've read... but, hey, selling is everything in tv, as you'll see later...)

...the first tv secret. The one that explains all the others.