Quantity over quality
If you have enough ideas, one of them will be good. MATHS FACT.
A thing that’s working for me: Corpsing
Improv the Dead recently did a 20-minute slot at DDG’s lovely Brixton improv jam. It was a great set, if I do say so myself. We had it all: a monologue about why Bank is the second-scariest Tube station, a deadly football chant, and a hero who worked out that whacking zombies in the face with a bazooka worked just as well as firing it.
It also had me laughing throughout – sometimes to the point of struggling to get the words out.
Lorne Michaels apparently hates corpsing. It’s unprofessional, it’s self-indulgent and it breaks the reality the performers have worked so hard to construct.
And, intellectually, I get that.
But as an audience member, I really enjoy seeing it! I enjoy seeing performers crack themselves up. I enjoy performers having a good time. I enjoy performers trying really hard to stay in character and not managing it.
And when I’m corpsing on stage, I’m not choosing to break character. There’s no Jimmy Fallon-esque fake laughter here. It’s very much happening against my will. But is there anything funnier than laughing at something you’re not meant to laugh at?
So if you book me for any kind of comedic improv, please know you will have at least one person laughing: me.
Also, corpsing during a zombie-themed show? That’s just consistent branding.
A thing I’ve been working on: Sitcom situations
There is an improv warm-up game I enjoy called ‘Eight Categories’. Various versions are available. One person jumps into the middle of the circle. They are given an item. They have to say eight categories that the item belongs in. It doesn’t matter if those categories make sense.
For example, my item might be a carrot. My categories might be:
Things that are orange
Things that I eat
Things that are vegetables
Things that Bugs Bunny likes
Things that make you see in the dark
Things you use in cake
Things that have skin
Things that are shaped a bit like penises
The beauty of the game is that it forces you to think of a lot of ideas and not get too attached to any of them. And because you’re in the middle of the circle and there’s some time pressure, you end up saying some weird, fun stuff.
I’m part of British Comedy Guide’s writers’ room and we were asked to bring ideas for sitcom situations. To do so, I essentially played this game with myself.
What makes a good sitcom situation? Ideally some element of forced proximity – otherwise these disparate characters might simply decide they’d had enough of one another and go their separate ways after three episodes.
Forced proximity can be fairly loose – a family is in forced proximity even if its members are quite different. It takes a lot to be estranged from one’s family. See: Modern Family.
But it can also be pretty literal – people physically stuck in one location with no choice but to make the best of it, such as prison. See: Porridge.
So my category was situations with an element of forced proximity. I gave myself a day to think of as many as I could without any regard to budget, practicality or originality. Here’s what I came up with. The ones in bold are my favourites.
Research station
Oil rig
Convent
Theatre
Start-up
Care home
Fast food restaurant
Civil service
RNLI
Co-op
Park run
Vet
Small Scottish island
Fire brigade
Leisure centre
Bird sanctuary
Competitive eating circuit
Farm
Delivery drivers
Kew Gardens
Met Office
Morgue
Beautician’s
Once I had my list, I then examined the merits of each idea before pitching it. Spoiler alert: we went with leisure centre – my 15th idea. Quality is a lot easier when you’ve got quantity to work with.
Side note: am I worried that publicly writing about my many incredible sitcom situations ideas will lead to one of you miscreants nicking one?
Not even slightly.
Under UK law, you can’t copyright an idea. Some writers are really worried by this and resolve to keep things under wraps for as long as possible.
This is not a fear I share. I think comedy writers have a much bigger problem: getting anyone to pay any attention to our ideas whatsoever.
I also don’t really value ideas.
Which isn’t to say that there aren’t some shows with great original ideas: Big Mouth, the first series of Westworld, Pluribus – these are all fantastic shows with fantastic premises.
But they wouldn’t work without great execution as well – as subsequent series of Westworld amply demonstrated.
There are also a lot of shows with not-very original ideas that work brilliantly. This one is one of my favourite shows: Chef does his best to run a family restaurant - which is struggling financially but still has amazing food – all while trying to be a good person.
I’ve just described Bob’s Burgers. I’ve also described The Bear. Two (alleged) comedies. Two very similar premises. Two very differently executed shows.
A thing I’m enjoying: Evolution
Chris Packham fronts a BBC documentary charting the evolution of five different species. As someone who loved Walking with Dinosaurs (we only recognise the original Kenneth Branaugh version in this house) and loves Attenborough documentaries, I thought I knew quite a bit about evolution. But this series was genuinely revelatory and visually gorgeous with compelling stories I’d never heard before.
Did I do the thing from before to build connection? YES.
I said I would add a plugs section to my Substack. Marvel below at the fruits of my labour – all part of Camden Fringe, Edinburgh Fringe’s London-based and much more affordable cousin.
A thing I’m doing to build connections: Saying thank you
I recently attended Mark Smith’s workshop on applying to improv festivals. Smith is the founder and co-director of Liverpool Improv Festival, a four-day extravaganza that I’ve had the pleasure of performing with twice. He is a man who has done a lot of improv and who has had to read a lot of improv show applications.
One of his top tips was to say thank you.
I’d like to think I’m a fairly polite person.
(But then again, who doesn’t think that of themselves? Perhaps I’m actually deeply rude and have simply not realised.)
And I do say please and thank you in all the usual situations. But he suggested going a little bit of your way to say thank you. Had a rejection? Thank them for taking the time to consider you. It costs you, what, five minutes? It hurts you not at all. But it might help you be remembered as a nice person – and in a field where there are lots of Talented People with Good Ideas, being nice might just give you the edge.
Things I’m doing that you should come to:
Monday 10 August – 7.30pm – Kerfuffle present Scenes from a Hat with Hats! – The Water Rats, 328 Gray’s Inn Rd, King’s Cross, London, WC1X 8BZ – an hour of silly improv games, much like Comedy Store Players.
Saturday 15 August – 3pm – ZomBeebies – Bridewell Theatre, 14 Bridewell Lane, Blackfriars, London EC4Y 8EQ – the kids’ show version of Improv the Dead – which is exactly the same as the adult show apart from we don’t say ‘fuck’ -
Saturday 15 August – 8pm – Improv the Dead – Bridewell Theatre, 14 Bridewell Lane, Blackfriars, London, EC4Y 8EQ – a full hour of zombie-themed improv, this time with the word ‘fuck’.