Brunch in Edinburgh, every day for a Month...

Just when life seems as weird, twisty and utterly, unfathomably complicated enough, someone goes and offers me an Edinburgh show.

A proper one, in a proper studio space.

I know. No-one was more shocked than me.

It's been a pretty intense week of gigging and trying to write, hence the lack of Bloggage...well,, okay I probably could have fitted in a blog or two, but that would be failing to account for my pitiful self motivation and built in Inertia. Friday saw me performing Poetry at the brilliant, brilliant, BRILLIANT Bingo Masters Break Out, in which all the acts have to do Karaoke. I did 'You Give Love a Bad Name' and the room was SLAIN. Saturday brought with it Miow Kacha, a cabaret night based on Fatherhood in which I performed a slightly edited version of this routine, as well as dusting off 'Gods Cock' just to see if I could remember it. Both went down really well and I went home quite chuffed with myself. Which was quickly punctured on Sunday Night when I did the Amused Moose Laugh Off audition stage and didn't even get through to the next round.

This was no huge surprise...we were only allowed to do a minute and a half, and I try really hard to write self-contained 5 minute sets that have a beginning, middle and end...thus making quite hard to strip out the punch lines and boil the whole thing down. Still, the laugh rate was depressingly low.

And just when everything seemed glum, Tuesday happened. At the Saturday night event, I'd got talking to the father of one of the organisers -who had performed a piece himself-, a rather nice and impressive gentleman who it turns out is Artistic Director for Off West End Theatres and happened to have a gap in his Edinburgh schedule, which he was impressed enough to offer to me. Which was quite flattering.

Okay, I know, I'd never attempt to do an hour show myself. I'm not ready...I'm quite far from ready. I'm closer to Alpha Centuri than I am for doing a successful hour of comedy, and besides who would pay to see me? BUT the idea of that available space proved too tempting, so on I emailed pitching him a mixed-bag showcase of new talent which I would head up. The slot is 11.30 in the morning, so I very quickly wrote a pitch for a 'Brunch' themed show mixing stand up, poetry and musical acts. Which he liked. Deal is done, all is confirmed, I'm going to Edinburgh.

Which of course raises a list of things I need to do.

1) Write and cast an hour of Comedy
2) Find a way of driving people to it at 11.30am at the Edinburgh Fringe
3) Find a way of surviving in Edinburgh for a month.

The pretty stonkingly amazing Rob Auton is already on-bored to fulfill the poetry quotiant. I'm pretty sure it's going to be called 'Comedy Brunch Buffet, because I can't think of a better title.

I'm very excited indeed, although frankly, the panic is beginning to set in. Just a touch.

Jesus Christ Superstar!

When you spend your days practically weeping into your duvet because you can't get a job or be bothered to write any new jokes it's always nice to have a reason to get out of the house, so thank heaven for my old chums and former employers at Myspace Comedy who mailed yesterday asking me to appear in a sketch. As per it was a brilliantly funny idea, an X-Factor rip off to find the new Jesus. Title? 'The † Factor', obviously. Knowing the usual Comedybox suspects as I do it wasn't hard to sense the hand of the rather brilliant Sarah Campbell in this one, it's just her bag.

I rolled up fashionably (oh, all right, typically) late to the Cavendish Arms in Stockwell (mental note, they do a fortnightily open mic night. Must wander along one of these days) to find a sunny pub garden full of people drinking beer, dressed as Jesus. As you do. It says a lot about involvment in the comedy world that I now barely blink at such sites. There was a pimp Jesus, a tramp Jesus (the brilliant Nathaniel Tapley as it happens, pictured above) a glamour model Jesus (she was very nice, her name was Chloe, she also insisted on being in the picture. You can see her here blindfold boxing), a South African Jesus, a French-Asian Acrobat Jesus, and...er...Luke Toulson. Sarah was doing the Kate Thornton/Dermot bit dressed as a Nun. As I said, I barely even register this stuff as weird these days (besides, Sarah dresses as a Nun quite often). Everyone ready to do a 'Jesus' turn in front of the judges, (a brilliantly cast Tiffany Stevenson, Brigitte Aphrodite and Paul Litchfield).

This did present a bit of a problem, in that most of the others had actually prepared some form of act for the sketch, where as I had hastily re-written an old sketch of mine that disproves Jesus's miracles, delivered as a monologue by a former public school chap who thought he was the new messiah. Before I did my bit it was suggested that maybe I should be slightly racist as well, so I went on stage before the judges and improvised about being the "new 21st century messiah, only, ya know, not a dark chap like the last one". It was nice to improvise with the "judges" and see what came out. I have literally no idea if any of it was any good, I suppose we'll see if it gets included in the finished sketch or not.

It was a fun afternoon in the Sun with friends anyway.

On a side note, last night I caught the new Richard Curtis film, The Boat that Rocked. On the off chance you're interested...it's okay, the cast is too big to really care about any of the characters and just for once Rhys Darby doesn't do as well as he usually does. But it's decent knockabout fun, and the soundtrack is ace. Go and see it if you have nothing better to do I suppose. Like me!

Cruelty to Children

Television takes increasingly weird twists and as we get progressively further towards Rape An Ape becoming reality. This morning I sat transfixed in front of the CBBC Channel while Who Wants To Be A Superhero unfolded before my baffled eyes. This may be the moment where children's programming on the BBC -the channel that gave us Doctor Who, Dark Season, Trev and Simon and Blue Peter- finally nukes the fridge. The show takes the Project Runway/America's Next Top Model formula and applies it to kids who want to be super heroes. Thirteen oldish kids (the youngest is nine, the eldest just inside their teens) have designed themselves Super Hero personas and must compete in daily tasks -Set by Stan Lee himself, no-less- to see who has the most comic book potential, the winner getting an american Holiday and a Stan Lee designed comic with them as the star.

It's not the format that's odd though, because it's the same one used by countless poorly executed reality comps around the world, it's seeing it applied to children. At the end of todays show three of them were picked to be possibly "powered down" (eg sent home) and had to stand under spotlights while hapless Dick-and-Dom-Lite Pop Idol rejects Sam and Mark picked which of the blubbing pre-teens wearing ridiculous spandex outfits got sent packing from the kids paradise they'd been enjoying, into the waiting of arms of their jeering friends, who'll probably have already got the "I am a batty man, kick me" stickers ready to attach to the back of their coats for the rest of their lives. There is no way any 12 year old is going to live this down through secondary school.

Today's challenge saw the kids first have to argue over who gets the camp bed and who gets the plush bunks ("I have to have a bed because I get sore back when I sleep, and anyway I'm not moving." said 'Mega Mighty Man' sprawling over his bunk while his fellow hero in waiting -the one with a genuine disability no less- found himself sleeping on floor level due to being a bit slow) before heading out for a running race where they were cleverly tricked one at a time into having to help an old lady or finish the race quickly. Obviously because most children are selfish fuckers, they ignored the old dear and tried to win the race while we the viewer watch on in horror at the youth of today.

It's already obvious who the Beeb are favouring. One of the children is not only black and has glasses, but has sort of gnarled and mangled hands. Ethnic and disabled? That's reality TV gold! And he stopped to help the old lady.

The whole thing feels creepy and exploitative. Of course children are cunts, that's no reason to show us their darker side on a supposedly frothy feel good show. And I certainly don't enjoy seeing them being forced into a stressful vote-off finale in humiliating outfits.

At what point did Knightmare, Fun House and Run The Risk stop being acceptable formats for childrens game shows?

The world still has some goodness left though. I went to see the brilliant new production of A Little Night Music last night in the West End. It's a pearl, go and see it.

Sunday Night at the Horse

Some gigs, as I've said, are just fucking weird. But then some weird gigs are actually quite fun. There seems to be no rhyme nor reason to this comedy wotnot I've involved myself in. Last Night I rocked up, with a hopeful spring in my step, to Laughing Horse Camden, on the off-chance I could get a spot. I wasn't the only one, as it turned out. Between the booked acts and the walk-up comics there was something like ten potential performers, and as it turned out about half that amount of actual punters. I'm coming to see a pattern to gigs like this. There are effectively three options.

a) The gig gets cancelled
b) The gig goes ahead, the comics perform to each other and it's weird and uncomfortable
c) The gig goes ahead, and everyone has a bit of a laugh.

Option (a) is actually the least appealing, particularly at my level when every gig is exciting regardless of the amount of people in the crowd. You spend your whole day building up to it, thinking about your material, mentally limbering, being excited about stepping up to the mic once more. Imagine spending several hours watching porn and thinking about every delicious sexual encounter of your life in preparation for a night of unequaled passion with a sexy blind-date from some sordid website, only to realise -just after you've necked the Viagra- that you've got the day wrong and have to have tea with your Nanna instead. The only hope is to ensure the old dear isn't looking while you pathetically yank one off into the biscuit tin and have a bit of a cry. Cancelled gigs are a bit like that.

Option (b) is a bitter-sweet affair, where the sordid blind-date turns out to be 40 years older and ten stone heavier than her picture. It's not quite what you imagined, but there's usually something to gain from forging ahead anyway.

Fortunately this was a (c) gig, where it turns out the blind-date is actually an old girlfriend using a pseudonym. It's a bit awkward, not as spontaneous, but in it's own way quite comforting and worthwhile because everyone knows what to do.

It was decided not to charge the guests, and that everyone would try and do new stuff and everyone would get a go. Seeing as there was a couple of chums involved (Grainne Maguire was MCing, the ubiquitous Alistair Grieves was lurking around a corner and Lou Sanders who helped me get my first ever gig, was in fine fettle) there was a nice supportive feel, and okay, it wasn't the most perfect of comic experiences, but there's always something to take from gigs like this. Grainne, who really is a delightful comic, gee'd up the crowd quite nicely, only to have them remain stoney faced for the actual acts. In fact most of them vanished in the interval, despite some impressive hard work from the comics. The lack of actual punters (now down to one) didn't damped the second half though, if anything it went a bit better. Now playing purely to the comics, Lou delivered some of the strongest gags I've yet seen from her (and I've seen Lou Sanders LOADS), Alistair had some cracking stuff (Warhammer fans should look out for his Ice Planet gag) and Grainne was waving her Guinness around with obvious enjoyment. It was an even smaller crowd but everyone was pretty cheerful.

I went on last, and got introduced as the 'Headline Act', which if you were a paying punter would be bit like going to a Beatles gig to find yourself watching The Pete Best Band. Brilliantly Grainne got the single last genuine audience member in the crowd (who as it turns out wants to try stand up himself, he later revealed at the bar) to bring me on by repeating what she whispered in his ear. She had to tell him my name twice, which pretty much said it all (and I said so.)I decided to just do new stuff and play with ideas, managing to work up some bits I want to develop further, which was nice. It was quite exciting to set myself the challenge of not using ANY of the material from my more rehearsed set, and I quite enjoyed myself despite about 60% of the gags falling flat. I even did the Spandau Ballet poem.

Not the most successful of Comedy shenanigans then, but a nice time had all the same. Still, it will be nice to get away from the open-mic and playing-to-the-other-acts affairs next Sunday when I do One Mighty Craic.

One final thought for you, Jerry Springer style. Proof if proof were needed that vanity will ultimately make you depressed. I was googling my own name yesterday and came across this:



I don't know who this other Marc Burrows is, or how he met his demise. But I hope, wherever he is, his T-Shirt and Westlife tribute makes him proud, and that he is doesn't think i'm sullying his good name with my low quality beginner comedy. RIP indeed Marc B.

Good Words and Good Books

I'm not sure if yesterdays critique of my critique (are you following this?) was the wisest move, and very possibly I was a bit hasty. I know a couple of the comics on the night said they had a great time (both pointed to the free beer as an important factor), although other comics I have mentioned it to were far more outraged on my behalf than I was myself.

I wonder if I should go back next month and learn some more?

Either way it was a relief last night to find myself in the warm fuzziness of the excellent monthly poetry night Bang! Said The Gun. I've mentioned before that I occasionally a dabble a bit in poetry, although it's very rare that it gets a proper outing. I like Bang! though, it has a lovely welcoming feel and is quite unlike other nights of it's ilk, being a showcase for its four regulars with an open-mic slotted in the middle. When it comes to poetry I seem to have accidentally fallen into a tradition of always writing something on the day I perform. Once I realised I'd been doing it, it seemed obvious to carry on...meaning I needed something new, fresh from my head...this what I came up with.

Spandau Ballet
Why can't the whole world be more like
Spandau Ballet?
Ready to put aside their differences in the pursuit of
Art, Music and lots and lots of money.
Oh! Tony Hadley
Oh! that one off Eastenders...
And his Brother.
Oh!...the other two.
If only everyone was more like you.
Only with better songs.

Now, eagle eyed followers of That Joke Isn't Funny will spot some connections to this blog entry from wednesday. To my delight my words are eating themselves. I'm blogging about my life, but the process of writing is actually producing creative results I can take away and use, and then blog about again. It's a literary Ouroboros. I'm also developing some stand-up based around my Job Centre rant. I will be Richard Herring before I know it, only younger and substantially less talented and successful than he was at my age.

I like performing at Bang!, it doesn't have the high pressure of a comedy club -which means its less innately thrilling- but still gives me the opportunity to banter a bit, try out mini-routines and make people laugh, and if I'm not funny it's fine because people aren't really there for funny. I'm going to do a longer spot on April 30th. It's at the Roebuck on Great Dover Street, near Borough station, you should pop along.

It also afforded me the chance to see the baffling Ant Smith, the self styled Gene Pitnet of Poetry who sings all of his words in a rather spiffing tenor. Very much a new experience.

And if that wasn't enough to cheer me up (and get me over my first official sign-on at Peckham Job Centre today), tonight I found myself selling t-shirts for the lovely Good Books. I go back with the band a little way, I did their merch for over a month of gigs on their first headline tour in 2007, and it was lovely to get requainted. Their new stuff is great and I can't wait for the second album. There first record, Control, was cruelly over-looked. It was one of the albums of the year for me. Go and have a listen.

My favourite moment of the evening came from one punter who visited me at the merch stand and told me she'd loved my performance. I pointed out I wasn't in the band, and she refused to believe me, mistaking me for GB Basstype Chris. She seemed to think he was even dressed in my shirt (he wasn't). I tried to prove her wrong by claiming that Chris wears glasses, and she said "well you could have just taken them off". I had no come-back to this. She had a point. I gave up. There are worse things to be mistaken for than Chris from Good Books.

Your humble author stars in a sketch

Normal service to be resumed very soon. It's a new years revolution!

In the mean time, please enjoy spotting me in this brilliantly accurate spoof of the hideous Microsoft 'Life Without Walls' Campaign, by the perma-talented Sarah Campbell

Microsoft I'm a PC Spoof

Trainee Stand Up

Note to That Joke Isn't Funny Regulars...I wrote this for the new Myspace Comedy UK site I'm currently working for, although I don't think they're going to use it. I figured I may as well sling it up here too. Normal service will resume shortly, now I have more time to actually watch television. The Myspace blog also has review of Fringe shows wot I wrote. If you're, you know, interested.

As a result, please excuse the foray into the self indulgent waters of first person. I hate breaking my own house style.

Marc B

I suppose it was inevitable. I've worked in Comedy getting on for two years, I've been obsessed with it ever since I can remember (I had the entire series of the Young Ones memorised by the time I was about nine), I've been quoting bits of other peoples stand up ever since I was old enough to know what it was. I've seen hundreds of comics and I go to gigs all the time. Basically I love stand up comedy, and I've been pretty passionate about it for a pretty long time.

I was going to have to go give it a go.

Let's get this out of the way now. I wasn't going into Stand Up expecting to be any good at it. I wasn't going on stage to succeed…I was doing it to see if I could pull it off at all. To not-fail, rather than actually succeed: these are two very different things. It was an experiment. I've had some loose material knocking around my head for a while now, and it had gotten to the point where I just had to know if it was any good. I'd reviewed and booked and worked with hundreds of comics. At the Edinburgh Fringe I was watching them all day, and maybe every fourth comic I saw made me think "with some work I reckon I could do that". Just (admittedly every other comic I saw made me go "Damn. I'm not clever enough.")It got to the point where I had to give it a go.

So I asked a comic-friend who put me in touch with someone, and bang…5 minutes at the Tron in Edinburgh on a Thursday night. Simple as that.

Oh. My.

At which point I realised I was actually going to have to write some material, get the stuff out of my head and on to a page. So I wrote it all out. I said it out loud. I crossed most of it out. I wrote it again. I said it out loud.

Bugger. There were no jokes in it.

What I'd written was a reasonably engaging comic story about looking slightly younger than I actually am, with a reasonably funny ending. I was sort-of happy with it, but there weren't enough gags layered through the whole thing, they were all stuck at the end. Watch any half way decent stand up and you know they win or lose an audience in the first 30 seconds of their set…my best bit wasn't until minute 5. So I did a little rewriting, and worked on performing it a little. It was…okay. Stand up convention dictates you should start by voicing whatever the audience is probably thinking when you hit the stage…it pre-empts heckles, and gets a cheap laugh at your own expense in the first 5 seconds. For example… "I know what you're thinking…Paedophile" (Daniel Kitson), "I know what your thinking…the body of Peter Crouch and the head of Postman Pat" (Tom Wrigglesworth), or "don't worry…I've never heard of you either" (Stewart Francis). I had one of those, but decided not to kick off with it, because I wasn't sure it was strong enough. I insterted it about a minute in. To be honest the opening gag was the thing that had me most worried. I'd got the rest of the act –such as it was- into a reasonable condition. Other things did occur to me, but I thought I'd best stick to what I'd got for now.

The night of the show approached, and still I wasn't quite there. I had the timing right, I took the night off, I made sure no-one knew what I was doing (if I was going to fail at this I was damned if anyone would ever know about it), but I still needed some tweaking. The day drew on, my stomach twisted itself into knots.

On the way to the venue I thought of an opening. It wasn't a great opening, but it was okay. I'll keep the details to myself in case it never works again.

I got to the show, met Sean the compere –nice bloke-, there were only 17 people there. Fine by me. Then two things happened that weren't supposed to. First of all I had to follow James Dowdeswell, whose been in Extras with Ricky Gervais and is a very funny man. Then there was Nick Doody who is an exceptional stand up, then right before me was Shazia Mirza whose been on Have I Got News For You and everything. Okay, this isn't going great. I'm not going to compare…I hastily re-wrote my opening to "hello, my names Marc, and yes I am the first act tonight whose not actually been on the telly".

The second thing that went wrong, and for my money the very last thing I expected, is an old friend from University walked in, and was delighted to see me. And even more delighted to know I was performing. Great.

But you know, I'm a pro (natch) so I ignored the distractions, and waited my turn. The nerves actually settled, and having someone to talk to sort of helped.

I did it.

I've left that sentence on its own, because it's a small achievement by itself. I did it. I did 5 minutes of stand up comedy. And you know what? It wasn't bad. Okay, it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination actually good…I doubt any of those 17 punters will remember me except for a faintly amusing sorbet between two proper acts. But I wasn't bad. I got laughs…small ones, but I expected that. It confirmed that my material didn't really have enough jokes in it…as I suspected it was a reasonably compelling comic story, but didn't provide enough laughs. I was surprised (okay, read disapointed) to find it was the cheaper gags that got the laughs, where as the funnier moments of my story warranted mere politeness and some giggles. But it proved that I could, just about, do it. Sort of. It was something worth perusing.

I'm not saying I'm looking at Stand Up as a career, or even thinking about doing it a lot. But that one gig went okay, if nothing else it proved to me I should do another one, and then another. Just to see. At the very least I can say I've had a go.

It'll be easy. I just need to write some jokes.

Marc is coming to a comedy club near you. Except he won't be telling anyone before hand, in case he's rubbish.

Still really love brown toast? Peep Show Series 5 Review

Series Five of Peep Show (Channel 4 legal edict dictates it should always be prefaced with the words “Award Winning Sitcom”, or at a push “acclaimed” but we heed not these petty rules) seems to have been over in the blink of an eye. One minute we were watching the opening episode in a critics screening hoping Bruce Dessau hadn’t paid any attention to our photo on the small chance he’d read this blog, trying to avoid making eye contact with him just in case, and concentrating on the screen in spite of the projector glare from Robert Webb’s bald patch; the next watching the credits role six weeks later on a flummoxed Mark in episode six, no wiser than he was back when the show launched in 2003. A good time, then, to reflect…


It’s always polite to start with the good stuff. Peep Show is still one of the most consistently painful and brilliant experiences in TV comedy today. Every episode has a guaranteed squirm factor, and several guaranteed laughs, and its testimony to its brilliance that six years on (although as David Mitchell has pointed out, that’s only one series on an American sitcom) we still care about Mark and Jez. Series Five has been funny, undeniably, undoubtably funny.


But there’s something wrong. Something we can’t quite put our finger on. For the first time since its inception, Peep Show wasn’t the classiest work on telly. Though there was still much to like, this series felt somehow incidental, unimportant, missable. Not bad by any means, not even off-the-boil in the way The Simpsons or Scrubs has gone. Just…ordinary.


There’s been something of diminishing returns in Peep Show, basically since it went to a second series. The first round of episodes remains the shows peak, with Mark and Jez feeling like representatives for everything we don’t like about ourselves. Their internal monologue reflected our own: Petty struggles and little victories that we could all relate to (“Of course I'm the one whose laughing as I actually love brown toast”/ “Yeah, take that Big Suze. Your toilet seat regime is over”). From series two we seemed to move away from that, with scenarios becoming more farcical, more desperate, and our champs becoming less everyman and more pathetic. The cringey-can’t-believe-what-we’re-seeing-painful-funny version of the show probably peaked last year with dog eating and Jez pissing himself in church. It’s hard to believe Peep Show will quite reach those peaks again.


In a way, it was series four that really made this more recent offering suffer. The finale of the past series saw the wedding of Mark and Sophie: the end point of an arc that dominated that series (Mark doesn’t want to get married but can’t quite seem to call it off), and the culmination of Marks story for the entire four-series run. After that event was out of the way, there was always going to be an air of redundancy. It also seemed to lose track of it’s own rules: Mark is a tragic loser who hates himself and is ridiculously awkward with women…so how come he finds himself involved with a different one in each episode? It’s not that no women should fancy Mark, but they seem to be coming along with unnatural frequency.


Missing, was an arc that gently steered the stories. There were loose themes (Mark’s search for “The One”, Jez’s sudden cash crisis) but they never felt as compelling as the broader issues dealt with in the past. With the exception of the last episode, the show never really felt it was going anywhere. There could have been something to play on…wasn’t Mark’s Dad supposed to appear in this series?–the daunting figure who has been hinted at since series one? Possibly he was dropped for Jez’s Mum, which is a shame as Mark’s Dad is probably the most interesting story pay-off left in the show.


Of course it wasn’t all bad. We could squeak for weeks at the perfect casting of Isy Suttie as Dobby the office techy, and she did us proud. The dialogue was as sharp as ever, and those internal voiceovers are still brilliantly written. Johnson is still ace.


This series performed well in the ratings, and deservedly so- even off form Peep Show beats the pants of most of the Friday Night Fare, and a sixth outing is in the bag already. Let’s just hope for a little more substance to the shenanigans next time around. The end of the series (a baby!) suggests it will. We’re always ready to give Peeps Show another chance.

Delta flies under the radar

There was something quite likeable about the latest BBC3 Comedy pilot, Delta Forever, a tale of obsessive book fans connected by a website.

The script worked hard to squeeze quite a lot of ideas into a very short space. The writing team of Jon Hunter, Misha Manson Smith, Holly Walsh, Greg McHugh and Ben Bond managed to cover the weirdness of media-two-point-wotsit better than almost any other script yet to tackle the subject. Many have tried and failed to nail online culture in a TV format, to our mind at least this is the first time it’s been done successfully, certainly such an effective satire of the web-wide-world we live in, is quite rare just now. Delta Forever manages to cover obsessive fans, video bloggers, ebay opportunists and creepy ad-men trying to get their head around web culture.

It helps that the whole thing was supported by a bunch of perky performances, notably by comic Greg McHugh (whose brilliant Gary: Tank Commander character debuted over on More4 this week), whose bitter obsessive chews up the webcam, and is easily the stand-out turn of the piece. Also of note was rentabitch Antonia Campbell Hughes, and sketch stalwart Jonny Sweet (the remaining third of the House Of Windsor not currently moonlighting as an Imbetweener over on E4)

We’re pretty sure that, unlike the baffling headfuck of Phoo Action or the dark twists of Being Human, there’s not enough lurking beneath the surface here to warrant a full series. It wasn’t well promoted, and flew in rather under the radar, which is a shame: Delta Forever had a lot going for it as a self contained little teleplay with something to talk about, proving at least that someone at BBC3 has more than a surface understanding of the interweb.

Half Time Summery: Doctor Who Series Four

As we’ve reached half time on Series Four of Doctor Who, it seems a sensible point to stop and take stock. Especially as we have been rather lazy and haven’t been writing blog entries since the current run began. Not that we haven’t been following the series, obviously

First thing to note, is that the beginning of New Who Vol. 4 came off the back of two important developments:

1) That series three had been the strongest so far. In fact, we’re continually baffled that more people don’t seem to think this. Series three was INCREDIBLE. It started with the strongest season opener yet (‘Smith and Jones’), had Russell T Davies’ most startlingly imaginative writing since the re-boot (notably ‘Gridlock’), the best hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck moment yet (Derek Jacobi’s reawakening as The Master in ‘Utopia’), and of course it had ‘Blink’- the single best piece of television this country has produced in ten years. Okay, we acknowledge that there were weaker moments (the Dalek two-parter springs to mind) and a slightly below-par finale, but the good out-weighed the bad by a long way. And we’ve not even mentioned how perfect John Simm was. The bar was set pretty high.

2) That, against all odds, the second series of Torchwood –winding up just as the Doctor Who starter pistol went off- was really, really good. Characters who previously had all the pathos of burnt sticks were suddenly living, breathing people, who we cared about after all. The finale had some genuinely brilliant moments. The bar just went up a bit.

As a result, when ‘Partners in Crime’ made its early-tea-time debut it had a lot to live up to. More than it could justifiably deliver, really. And though the witty script was actually one of the more original RTD efforts yet delivered, the episode itself just didn’t pull its weight. Things were looking up with a trip to Pompei for episode 2, with career-best CGI (those Lava monsters probably cost the entire budget of series one), with some decent scares and a solid Doctor Who story. Between the two episodes we get the general feel for the series: quirky and silly on the one side, weepy and emotive on the other, with Catherine Tate’s Donna acting both as a comic foil and moral compass for David Tennant’s ever active Doctor. We’re suspecting the whimsy has peaked with the recent ‘The Unicorn and the Wasp’, with a slide towards hankie-and-sofa-cushion territory to come as the series progresses.

There has been plenty to enjoy. Catherine Tate has been a pleasant surprise, though –Kylie aside- still the least effective of the New Who companions. When she TONES DOWN THE SHOUTING she proves a much more subtle and affecting actress than the evidence of ‘The Runaway Bride’ would have suggested, and she and Tennant play off each other well as a double act. Occasionally she grates, and sometimes feels a little surplus to requirements (‘The Doctors Daughter’ could have done fine without her). CGI has been pretty exemplary (the Vespiform morph in ‘The Unicorn…’ aside), and there have been a handful of really stand out moments: Martha’s clone in ‘The Sontaron Strategy’, Georgia Moffat’s energetic freshness in (‘…Daughter’), Captain Darling.

Despite this though, and despite a lack of genuinely poor pieces, the whole doesn’t feel like it hangs together. It’s difficult to put your finger on, but as yet series four of Doctor Who feels less than the sum of its parts. There’s still time, and certainly the series as a whole is probably neck-and-necking with series 2. We have great hopes for the next 6 episodes, and with RTD moving on after the next round of specials his self-penned final 4 episodes, featuring Rose, Daleks and something mysterious that blocks out the stars are oozing with potential.

We’re hard not to predict what’s going to happen, although it’s fairly safe to say that Donna’s journey to the end of the series probably won’t be an easy one. We’ll actually be rather surprised if she survives…not to mention a little disappointed. Not because we dislike Donna, but because the new series has not yet had the courage to murder it’s companions, always a good way of delivering a thrill in the original series. We don’t count Kylie, we didn’t have much really invested in her. The companion-fest in the season finale (Donna, Martha, Rose, Captain Jack, Sarah Jane and Ianto and Gwen from Torchwood allegedly) might prove a bit of an over load. It’ll be interesting to see how RTD handles Davros (almost certainly on his way back), and whether he resists the temptation to bring back The Master after that teaser with the ring at the close of S4 in some sort of Dalek/Master face-off.

What's To Come:

He’s Not A Prince, He’s Not a King

Occasionally there’s a show that you thoroughly expect to dislike, and for reasons you don’t fully understand ends up owning a little corner of your soul. Such a one is The Inbetweeners, currently finding it’s feet on E4 of an evening. Maybe it’s because there are few other shows in 2008 that give you the opportunity to re-visit Sleeper lyrics in blog headlines, but we like to think it goes deeper than that.

Inbetweeners follows four teenage boys in the first year of sixth form, and probably works best if you’re the generation that actually understand the cultural gap between year 11, year 12 and year 13, because those differences are crucial here. Inbetweeners is possibly the only TV show ever written that really understands the burgeoning freedom and weird sense of impending adulthood pushing it’s way through the brains of 17 year old boys, trying their best to be at the same time grown ups who like cars and girls, and schoolboys who like football and their Mum.

Our main way in to the world of adolescent shame and fumbling geekorama is Simon Bird as Will, a bookish posho with a fit Mum who finds himself at a suburban comp, eventually gravitating to the similarly likeable, hopelessly geeky Joe Thomas as Simon. Comedy nerds will recognise the pair as two thirds of excellent House Of Windsor sketch show, and the infamous Cambridge Footlights (no less) from a few years back. Simon is also in this years Chortle Student Comic of the Year finals for something like the 20th time. The duo are paired up with comedy sidekicks and class prats Neil (over-tall, not too bright) played by Blake Harrison and Jay (Loud mouthed, impressionable, bit of a wanker) aka James Buckley. The quartet are so recognisable as the likeable-but-not-faniciable-uncool group everyone who was ever in sixth form either knew or actually were part of. We’re going to come clean and say that was us, which is probably why Inbetweeners Resonates so well for us.

Probably more significant is the shows relationship to Skins: eg, none at all. Both deal with a similar age range, both are E4 products, but their the similarity ends. While Skins is the fast paced, shagging-and-booze life we either wish we had or suspect our younger sisters have, Inbetweeners is the awkward, gangly truth, celebrating the brilliant mediocrity of being 17, of your first mate to learn to drive, your mates inexplicable other mates, and cool people who don't look at you twice.

Who knows what the fates hold for Inbetweeners. It's not edgy enough to gain much media profile, not culty enough to be an underground hit. But it is honest, watchable and absolutely genuine.

Okay it's not a work of art, or anything...it's nothing special, it's not too smart...it's just The Inbetweeners.

Horne and Corden are not Pegg and Frost

James Corden and Matthew Horne are everywhere. It wouldn’t have surprised us if one of them had won the London election. Honestly, give them a BAFTA and they think they’re the new Python.

Well…actually, maybe the new Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, as the pair are to star in Brit Horror-com Lesbian Vampire Killers ("Two no-hopers. One cursed village. One hell of a night!"), which probably would never have got a greenlight if the Pegg/Frost/Wright Romzomcom modern-classic (we’ll stand by that ‘Modern Classic’ claim if anyone doubts us, in a fight if necessary) Shaun of the Dead hadn’t been a hit.

The comparison doesn’t stop with forays into British genre films though. Both duos have presented the NME awards (2005 for S&N, 2008 for J&M), both have backgrounds in Sketch shows (Big Train, Man/Woman, The –Non-Award Winning-Catherine Tate Show, the new Corden/Horne project) both have broken new ground in Sitcoms (Spaced and Gavin and Stacey…Modern Classics again), and of course there’s a fat one and a thin one. But we’re not that superficial.

As for the flick itself, we’re not sure how we feel about it just yet. The presence of Horne and Corden (“so hot right now”) is probably a good sign: the duo would presumably have their pick of projects just now, so the fact they’ve chosen this as their vehicle at least indicates a decent script.

Aside from that though, nothing about Lesbian Vampire Killers really inspires much confidence: it’s written by a couple of jobbing TV writers who cut their comedy teeth on clips shows and utter dross like Ball of Steel, producer Steve Clarke-Hall appears to have never worked on a decent film in his entire career (Dungeons and Dragons 2: Wrath of the Dragon God, anyone?) and production company AV Pictures only notable release has been woeful Kelly Brooke vehicle School For Seduction.

And of course films that start from a title and work backwards –even if that title is done with tongue firmly in cheek, are seldom worth the admission price.

Still, who are we to judge, it’s not out yet and it might end up a masterpiece. Time will tell.

Honey Monster Rips Off Boosh scandal

While adverts ripping off proper telly (not that adverts aren't proper telly mind) is nothing especially new (we're sure red cars and blue cars had races before Milky Way told them they could) it's rarely this blatent. Good lord, will you take a look at this...

Delicious puffs of wheat in little honey jackets they may be, but that's no excuse for plagiarism. Unless you're Noel Gallagher.

We're trying to work out if the Boosh can actually ride this one to court, after all it's pretty blatant and you never saw this before Mssrs Fielding and Barrett turned up. Although should they take it that far they may find themselves dragging their comedy pot past The Goodies, who'll be seeking Legal Advice while brandishing a black kettle.

Let's enjoy some proper Crimpage

My over-extended Family

Hidden at the bottom of Chortle today –and as far as we can make out unreported elsewhere on the web- is the announcement of a 9^th series of My Family. Ninth? That’s…that’s….loads. That’s over taking Fools and Horses in standard episodes.

My Family baffles us. Is there anyone alive who actually rings it in the Radio Times, takes the phone off the hook, makes a nice cup of tea and settles down to half-hour of Harper family fun? Does anyone have My Family DVD marathons? It’s difficult to imagine, but somehow it’s been hogging the prime-time-limelight for the best part of a decade.

Thing is, when My Family first cropped up it wasn’t all that bad. It’s always nice to see Wolfy Smith back on the box, pre-BT Kris Marshall was a welcome addition to telly-land – we remember him getting laughs just for walking on screen in Love Actually- and the more Daniela Denby-Ashe the better as far as we’re concerned. It was a bit silly, had a classic farce-sitcom format that had been absent for a while, was reasonably well written and wiled away a half hour fairly amicably.

Eight years on and the scripts have got so hackneyed the principles are actually refusing to shoot them. This is Zoe Wanamaker talking to the Telegraph in March, 2007:

“What attracted me to the first scripts was that they had a slightly quirky, American Jewish quality to them. That's my humour. Critics absolutely hated it. The public liked it. But it's turned into a machine. Robert and I even refused at one point to do one, it was so bad. That caused a lot of problems, but we just felt it was not good enough. We had practically a football team of scriptwriters working on the last series”

But still they soldiered on, not-laughing all the way to the bank. And someone must have watched it, because here we are with a ninth successive outing. What else is there for the Harper family to do? They pole-vaulted the shark several years ago, none of the cast are really bothered anymore (Robert Lynsey and Zoe Wanamaker are established thesps, while your phone bill keeps Kris Marshall in moose for his lovely floppy fringe. Gabriel Thompson just sits there, glumly waiting for Daniel Radcliffe to be killed in a fire), it’s a flogged-out cash cow, cowering in the farmers yard waiting for the tragic inevitability/blessed relief found inside a metaphorical dog food tin.

iPlayer hacked, world fails to stop turning

In a move that will surprise absolutely no-one (except maybe Bruce Dessau, whose still getting his head round internet video) some clever sod has hacked the iPlayer (apparently in 12 minutes.) This will probably disappoint, or perhaps even surprise some of the TV top brass still hoping that telly won’t “do a music industy” and accidently bung out all their product for free. It really shouldn’t shock them though…Aunty Beeb herself has responded with

“This is not unusual or surprising,”

a quote which we think works best in delivered in a slightly weary and non-plussed tone.

It does beg the question: if something is utterly inevitable is it still news?

Of course the debate about whether this stuff should be freely downloadable and absent of DRM is another kettle of ethically-sourced cod all together. For the record we think the answer is…er…'sometimes'. Unless it’s something we want and can’t afford just now, in which case the answer is ‘always’.

Brilliant black comics? The BBC Needs YOU!

The BBC head of Comedy Commissioning, Lucy Lumsden, has spoken in The Stage of her frustration at how “white and male led” most of the pitches she receives are, and her desire to encourage more diversity in submissions. Here’s what she had to say on the matter.

‘The majority of all our ideas are male-led, single camera shows and they are usually white male-led. It is still a very white male industry and white males tend to write about their own lives.

‘Just as it is difficult for women to break through into comedy because they feel it is not their domain, I am sure it is incredibly difficult for black and Asian writers.

‘But if you have a show that speaks to them, suddenly that changes that. They then feel it is a show they can contribute to and not that they are working within this white male world.”

She cited the upcoming hip-hop sitcom Trexx and Flipside as redressing the balance a little.

In this she echoes recent comments made by Lenny Henry –whose married to the Vicar of Dibley and is most memorable recently for his starring role in Extras- complaining of mainstream broadcastings failure to integrate black people into their programming.

Do they have a point? Lumsden is certainly in a position to know. The question is more “why?” It’s not like there’s a shortage of talented black or Asian comic minds: The live circuit is thrumming with them. Reginald D Hunter sold out his entire Edinburgh run last year and gets a decent share of TV work, yet somehow he still feels like a loan voice as a black stand up in the UK. It doesn’t seem to be the case in America- where black-led sitcoms and sketch shows are ratings staples and black stand-ups are hugely popular, most of which achieve equal popularity over here: Chris Rock probably sold more tickets, faster than any other touring comic in the UK in 2007. So why are our own talents finding it so hard to get a commission? If the head of Comedy Commissioning at the BBC is actively looking for this stuff and it’s not appearing then something, surely, is blocking the way?

There’s a horrible sense that should the really talented stuff not get to the top then the Beeb will carry on commissioning any old shit just because it ticks the box. Which is the only possible reason for the continued appearance of Little Miss Jocelyn on the books.

Listen very carefully, ve shall say zis...etc etc

There’s been an odd about-turn on ‘Allo ‘Allo…we don’t remember it being dreadfully funny on broadcast, but watching repeats over the last 5 years has forced a complete rethink: ‘Allo ‘Allo is brilliant; and now the Germans can enjoy it too…Widely reported yesterday was the acquisition of the classic sitcom by German TV station ProSiebenSat1, along with wide-ranging speculation that the German’s would (a) probably not get it, or (b) be mortally offended.


We can’t account for (a), it’ll depend entirely on how successfully the re-dubbed show will work in German, especially considering ‘Allo ‘Allo worked best when it boiled down to word-play and accent/language gags.


As for (b), we don’t recall ‘Allo ‘Allo being specifically offensive to the Germans…the German army are painted as inept buffoons who just want an easy life. As indeed are the occupied French, and the British. The majority of the German characters are actually quite likeable, Herr Flick and General Von Klinkerhoffen aside, but they themselves are very broad steretypes no different to the French Onion sellers and the cloak-and-dagger Resistance.


Still, it's difficult for us in the UK to fully appreciate the perception of the war in Germany. Seeing the Nazis as figures of fun is ingrained into our cultural memory, dating back to the war itself when Hitler and Goering would appear in the Beano as inept slapstick thickos. In Germany, where perception of the War is still wrapped in a sense of shared shame about the holocaust, programme makers have always tread carefully. "Heil Hitler"'s are still very rare on German TV, only time will tell if they still offend people when abbreviated to "kler!".


Still, it’s a nice excuse to post our all time favourite ‘All ‘Allo moment. Okay, our favourite ‘Allo ‘Allo moment not involving Vicky Michelle’s specialist film career. Ahem…

Bruce Almighty!

The thing about being a poncey media snob, as we at Thatjoke very definitely are (and proud of it too) is that you can’t stop yourself occasionally coming across as a bit of a wanky smugster. Fortunately we’ll never look quite as smug as this:

Yep, check that face out. Doesn’t it make your fists clench and your eyes feel slightly itchy? Meet Bruce Dessau, king of the Non-story and current comedy Critic-in-chief for the Evening Standard. He’s also worked for the Times and the Guardian (who persuaded him to pose for a less smackworthy banner-pic) and written a series of uninspired-looking comedy biographies.

Bruce is the master of writing lots while saying little; his blogs at the Standard’s website are lessons in stating the bleeding obvious at pointless length. Currently we’re reading his stuff whenever we want to feel annoyed that someone is being paid substantially more than us for such relentless space-wasting.

Observe:

Full Blog: Funny Ha-Ha or Funny Boohoo?

What Bruce actually means: “a new BBC4 drama series thinks all comedians are depressed mentalists, but these comics wot-I’ve-met prove otherwise”. Or to be even more succinct: “Are comedians depressed mentalists? Not all of them but some are”.

We say: Surely the BBC4 series isn’t making a sweeping generalisation, but making special cases out of these key examples (Frankie Howard, Tony Hancock, Hughie Green, the cast of Steptoe –surprisingly not Spike Milligan too) and talking about the relationship between knowledge of human understanding and self-awareness? It’s not about comedians being naturally morose, but about morose people who happen to also be comedians and thus make for a richer and more interesting drama.

But that’s a little too dark and complicated an idea and doesn’t give Bruce the chance to do some thinly veiled name dropping and make blindingly obvious points.

Full Blog: Two's Company

What Bruce actually means: “some people who work together also work separately, and double acts usually break up eventually”

What we say: Well done Brucie! Hold the front page and get the South Bank Show on the line…there’s a big scoop in this one.

Full Blog: iPlayer Changed My Life

What Bruce actually means: “isn’t the BBC iPlayer a brilliant idea, it’s changed everything over night and now I don’t need a video”

What we say: Jesus H Corbett Desso, we’re not sure what pulse your fingers on exactly, but it clearly died years ago. Leaving aside the fact the iPlayer launched about 3 months ago, it was hardly that big a revolution even then. Unofficially VOD has been around for years. Within hours of it going out, every episode of –say- That Mitchell and Webb Look, was available to download on torrents the world over and stream all over the place, and that’s been the case for at least 5 years. We’ll admit Veoh, Youtube and Daily Motion aren’t as crisp and efficient as the iPlayer itself, and were certainly a long way from official (Illegal downloading is wrong kids, and it funds terrorism, peadophilia and mass genocide.) It was difficult to get hold of, say, the One Show or an episode of Doctors, but the real Watercooler TV moments you’re talking about? They’ve been easy to get for donkeys yonks. We like the iPlayer as much as the next media-savvy web snob, but life changing? Welcome to the internet BD.

We could go on all day.

Oh go on, one more.

Full Blog: Is Doctor Who Becoming Who is The Celebrity Guest This week?

What Bruce actually means: “Doctor who likes employing comedians, and I don’t know why”

What we say: You could also say "Why is Doctor Who obsessed with Luvvie middle aged thesps (Dereck Jacobi, Simon Callow, Penelope Wilton)", or "why is Doctor Who obsessed with pretty, young actresses (Billie Piper, Freema Agyeman, Carey Mulligan, Eve Myles)". They're just people who can bring different aspects to a performance. Jessica Hynes played it completely straight, Mark Gatiss is a brilliant writer for whom Doctor Who is a dream come true, Steve Pemperton excels at grotesques. These people were brought in because they’re specific abilities related well to specific roles.

Okay, Peter Kay was just trading on a famous name and the juries out on Catherine Tate –although she was an actress before her sketch show took off, and a pretty good one at that, but it hardly proves the show is “obsessed”

We’re aware this all may seem rather petty. It’s just…if you’re going to pay a journalist to write meaningless space fillers that say nothing of any importance, we’ll do it for you at half the price.

Being Andrew Collins

As much as I try my best to maintain a distinct editorial tone to this blog (wry satire and news comment reported in the 3^rd person if you must know), occasionally a more personal approach is needed, so join me as we swim into the shallow and self-indulgent waters of the first person Blog.

People have always asked me what I want to do with my life. As a child you get it a lot, then there’s careers councillors and teachers at college, and as an adult you tend to get it in job interviews, in a round-about kind of way. As a child my answer evolved from inventor to writer pretty quickly. At college it solidified into journalist, and then further into music/film/TV magazine journalist with a sideline in fiction. Then I started getting interested in radio, and then in comedy, and then I started writing comedy myself.

Which is a lot to get over in a job interview, so I started using the writer/broadcaster/editor/author Andrew Collins as a short-hand career ambition. “what I really want” I have always joked “is to be on the list of people the BBC call when they do I LOVE 2004”, or “The Top 100 Comedy Moments 1995-2005” or indeed “The Top Alternative Tunes 1985-Present”. An interesting person whose opinions are valued.

Last year Andrew Collins helpfully released a career biography (the excellent ‘That’s Me In The Corner’), allowing me to realise how far behind schedule I am. It also confirmed, even more than I actually realised, just how much Andrew had done that I’ve always wanted to achieve.

Depressingly my career thus far has been a sort of ITV3 version of his.

Observe:

Marc Burrows/ Andrew Collins career Contrast.

Andrew: Music journalist for NME, Select, Q, The Word, many more.
Marc: Music journalist for Playmusic (who went under owing me £400), Label magazine, various online

Andrew: Features Editor of NME and Select, Features Editor and Editor of Q, Editor of Empire, Film Editor for Radio Times
Marc: Arts Editor, Deputy Editor and Editor Label Magazine (Editor was a full time job, 20 page weekly magazine for a year running a team of students, elected position natually), content manager/copywriter (comedybox.tv)

Andrew: Has interviewed everyone from unknown indie bands to movie legends

Marc: Has interviewed thousands of unknown indie bands, plus the very occasional important person

Andrew: Comedy/Sketch Radio (Radio 5/1), Music Radio (6Music), Speech radio (Radio 4), Panel show (Radio 4), Podcast
Marc: Music Radio (LCR –student radio/ Roskilde Festival Radio), Speech Radio (Resonance FM), Podcast (coming)

Andrew: Written three memoirs
Marc: Er…Kept an extensive diary when I was in Hospital?

Andrew: Writes a Blog
Marc: Writes a blog. YES! Take that Collins.

Andrew: TV presenting, talking head

Marc: Producer, writer and presenter of upcoming Fuzzed.tv

Andrew: Sony award winner (for Collins and Maconie’s Hit Parade)
Marc: National Student Radio Association Award winner (Bronze Award, Best Entertainment Show)

Andrew: Partnered with Stuart Maconie, Richard Herring more recently.
Marc: Partnered incurably with Patrick Charlton

I’m not going to go into scriptwriting work, as Andrew was older than me when he did a lot of that so I don’t have to feel too bad.

So what’s the point of all this? Andrew’s recent book was about trying to fathom who he is and what he does. I’m trying to define who I am and what I want to do, and more or less they’re the same thing. I’d like to point out I’m not idolising Andrew Collins here, although I am a fan of his work. Nor do I resent him for his success, as it’s pretty well-earned. There's also things I've achieved that he hasn't. He just happens to have carved out, almost by coincidence, pretty much the exact career I’ve always wanted.

Maybe there’s something in the psyche of music-geek, TV obsessed Doctor Who fans from the East Midlands.

There’s still time to catch him anyway.

Kimmel Vs Silverman: It's War

When Sarah Silverman stitched up her boyfriend, US chat show host Jimmy Kimmel, by writing a song....well, just click on the video below, okay?

Is this a fully planned double-benefiting media campaign? Is it smug American celebs washing their dirties in public? Or, as we really hope it is, two equally devious comedians enjoying getting one over on their beloved? It doesn't really matter...click below and enjoy.

Sarah's video:

And Jimmy's reply: