When Steve Stamp left school he knew he wanted to write comedy. The problem was that he had no contacts or experience. He had no internship lined up, he hadn’t won any competitions, he had no credits to his name. In fact he didn’t even write scripts, and he had to hold down an office job to pay the bills.

Two years later Steve’s show ‘People Just Do Nothing’ was commissioned by the BBC. It’s now in its 3rd series and was nominated for a BAFTA in 2016. Steve no longer works the office job.

So how did he do it?

Steve was lucky enough to have funny friends, with a variety of skills in filming, acting and editing. So they got together and started filming themselves, showcasing the main characters in the pirate radio based mockumentary and creating ‘webisodes’ for YouTube. These were seen by producer Jon Petrie, who saw potential in the idea and helped them develop it for the BBC.

Steve got started by making his comedy. And it worked… not only was he able to showcase the characters, he demonstrated that there was an audience through its reception on YouTube. This was enough to persuade Roughcut to take a punt on them. (Last year we interviewed Steve at a live event – here’s what we learnt about making your own comedy show.)

But what if you don’t have a network of funny, talented people around you?

In 2012 Thomas Gray was a nobody in comedy. He started filming himself performing character monologues from his bedroom. For 6 months they sat on YouTube and nobody noticed. Then this one went viral:

This was a springboard for Thomas. Since then he has performed live and been commissioned by the BBC to create a series of 10 minute shorts of this character (they’re really funny, check them out here).

So what can we learn from these comedy journeys?

1. Comedy is all about funny and engaging characters – if you can show potential in a character nothing else matters, including production values. Filming on a smartphone is fine.

2. Agents, producers and commissioners are looking for new talent, and are willing to take a chance on creators.

3. If you’ve got no profile or agent to fight your corner, showing people a video showcasing your comedy gives you the best chance to get noticed.

4. Once you’ve made a video, simply putting it on YouTube may never get you noticed, and if it does it won’t happen overnight. You need a way of promoting it.

5. To succeed in this way you either need to be a good writer and performer, like Thomas, or you need to embrace collaboration.

So making your comedy show is no longer about sending a script to a list of production companies. Times have changed and as creators we need to change with it.

Which is why at The Comedy Crowd, we’ve created a bespoke platform to help you showcase your comedy character. It’s designed to support you to get your comedy noticed whether you are a writer, performer or both.

Chorts! are 2 minute videos that live on a dedicated page where you can promote them, get feedback, and get noticed. You can add as many as you like, it’s free, and if they’re good and you promote them (we’ll help you with this) then you’ll have a shot at getting noticed by producers and commissioners who can access and get updates on the best performing Chorts!

We showcase the best Chorts at Comedy events and festivals throughout the year – the next screening is at our own Chorts Live! event on 13th July in front of an audience of fans and top UK producers. Submit yours by 16th June for a chance to have it screened.

Click here to see the latest Chorts! and find out how to submit.

And right now if you’re a writer who doesn’t want to perform you can get involved too. We’ll soon be re-opening our competition to write a Chort!, and the winners will be shared with actors groups to help you find the right performer to showcase your character.

This is an exciting time to be a comedy creator. Commissioners are desperate for new talent. If you want to make the most of these opportunities we’re here every step of the way to help you make your comedy show.

Lets start creating!

By Lynsey Bonell

I’m from Amelia Comedy, and we’ve started putting on ‘comedy experiences’. I’ll be honest I’m not sold on the phrase ‘comedy experience’ but I’m 100% bought into the concept. They’re shows where the audience doesn’t just sit in their seats going “that was a clever joke”. Instead it’s something they can get involved in, be a part of it and hopefully they respond emotionally to it – an emotional response is the currency of great comedy and it’s the response we’re seeking!

The show we just ran was called ‘Save the date’ and was an improvised comedy experience where we staged an audience member’s dream wedding in the room. There were tears. Actual tears, from the bride, not us at the stress of wedding admin! That’s magic right!

So I thought I’d share how we’re creating ‘comedy experiences’*

1. Blurt it all out and follow what excites you!

When we started our planning we knew the kind of show we wanted, but we didn’t have any ideas of what that would or could be. So we started by listing all the experiences people have in their lives – getting married, having a child, buying a house. We wanted a show people would relate to and want to get involved in. All our ideas went up on a board and some ideas hit in the room way more than others. They were the ideas we’d all jump on immediately – we’d suggest bits we could do for that show, poster ideas, the set dressing etc. They were the ones we, well, cared about and connected to, and weren’t just wordplay or a funny idea. And we figured if we were all that keen it was a good gauge that other people would be. We kept track of the hits with an intricate coding system (a big circle round them). At the end of the night we had 40 ideas, and 6 clear winners!

2. Be organised and collaborate

Sorry, I know it’s dull (we’ll get to that ‘magic’ we hailed about in the article title soon), but it’s so important. Once we’d locked in Save the Date as the first of these shows we set up a google doc to keep track of all the ideas, content, research and show running order. We all live together (cue possible sitcom and terrible theme tune) but we still schedule time to meet and keep a running list of priorities so we can work on the most time sensitive bits first.

At every meeting the google doc goes up on the screen, and we bring along our home work – the jokes and research we’ve all been working on while apart (i.e. in different rooms of the flat). We pitch everything to the room, and then punch up and build on each others work.

To keep things moving when apart (when we’re all working at different tables in the same coffee shop up the street) we use slack and what’s app to share links, research, ideas, promo copy and images and actions so the show can keep on growing. We’ll then regroup again with that doc and add news bits, rejig and improve on earlier ideas.

3. Don’t be scared of work

You need to put in those hours. We’d all been to weddings, but that wasn’t enough. We broke down every element of a marriage and wedding from proposal to get driving off in a ‘just married’ car with cans attached. We say ‘examine your topic like scientists and detectives’. Capture all your thoughts, dig deep, don’t just scratch the surface. We wanted to know about weddings from every perspective as the people marrying, as guests attending, every kind of wedding – modern weddings (pop up food van), traditional weddings (merringue dress), celeb weddings (Britney’s lasted 55 hours!). We watched clips on youtube (don’t search for fatherdaughter wedding dances, oh boy!), we googled wedding gift lists (Game Over toilet paper is available), we read blogs (there are nine tips on how to include your dog in your engagement photos). And we considered buying a lie detector, (how else do you know if they’re telling the truth during the vows) but they cost £100.

4. Be flexible and fast

We knew some ideas would work better on film – so we took them out the show. We decided that at 11am during a meeting one Saturday morning, we wrote those bits up straight away and filmed them that day. We had more wedding content and bits than you’d have at an actual wedding, but that way we got the best bits.

5. Commit to your bits

We are all fans of Connor Ratliff a comedian at UCB. He is king of the slow build comedy bits – he’s run for president (and made a 50 page book to go with that campaign) and trained for the Olympics – team Rio! How could we commit to a wedding show (without getting married)? We could all become ordained ministers! This was an idea from the first ideas generation session, and a few clicks later we’re all ordained and can actually marry people. Do all those extra bits! We made an order of service with wedding advice tips, we gave everyone cake, we’ve even made a film of the wedding.

6. Play to your strengths to create the magic

We all trained at UCB – the Upright Citizen’s Brigade in New York and have a strong improv background so we mixed a lot of our improv skills with empathetically listening to the audience and trying to actually honour the things they wanted. Mean comedy is fine but we genuinely tried to throw someone an amazing party that everyone enjoyed. We chatted to the bride to find out what kind of partner she wanted, if she had thoughts on a dream wedding. We had an outfit for her to wear, we had an elaborate proposal, and during the vows our audience member started to cry “I’m getting married”. Now that’s magic right? Perhaps only slightly bettered with an alarmist cry of “”Wait wait … I want to get a photo” as the two brides cut the cake. Just like a real wedding, our audience didn’t want to miss out on that key photo opp!

7. Make it better

Our wedding show went pretty well, we didn’t have a guest book but people said: “Thanks for having us. Was such a laugh” and “Loved the Wedding show…a riot, great fun!” Next time it’ll be even better, there was definitely magic, but we know there can be more. And so we’ll be working on how to bring that in on the 7 July – when we improvise another dream wedding – someone has already been in touch interested in how to take part. And a friend I’ve not seen in ages has contacted me to find out when we’re doing the show again so she can come along “it sounds so great!”

*seriously any new name ideas welcome

You can get tickets for 7th July show here

Check out Amelia comedy’s improv experience shows on their Facebook page

By Dave McKenna

The tale of how I became the man making the ‘most expensive & offensive thing ever made for the internet.’ Like many of the episodes of The Hateful Tate it started with too much alcohol and spending unnecessary amounts of money. It was a standard night in Margate, there was a rave to attend which began with a buzz and ended in the not so early hours of the next day, with the similar feeling of doom, regret and the question that always lingered. ‘What in the name of Susan Boyle am I doing with my life?’ Arriving back at my basement flat (which isn’t relevant to this article at all really apart from the fact you might think ‘oh Margate that’s nice, sea views, fresh air’… No, There were no sea views, actually no view at all but still the squawk of the Seagulls penetrates. Anyhow, it was in this fragile state of mind that I began talking to my significant other (H) about my next film job and how its going to come about. It was a speech executed not in the style of a leader, giving a detailed plan of the route to victory but more in style of a stuttering modern-day politician when faced with the fact they’ve backtracked on a lie they told months before.

H asked if there was a site specifically for film-based jobs. She saw that as a more realistic & rational approach, compared to my priors pretending to be a qualified electrician just to get on a Bollywood film set (true story, I was sacked after a few hours. Turns out it’s quite difficult to pretend to be an electrician). I knew of one site, FilmandTvpro.com. I’d recruited on it while producing a French Short Film, discovering the finest (well cheapest) filmic folk from the corners of the web. Three out of Five of my recruits turned out not to be completely useless, one of them turned out to be mental and lived with me for a while. So I’d paid the price for my cheap labour, what I hadn’t paid for, as I explained to H that night was a membership for the site.

FilmandTvpro.com allows you to advertise jobs for free but if you want to apply they ask for a £170 annual membership fee, which I deemed absolutely unacceptable & beyond all sensical spending. Telling this to H expecting a similar squashed facial expression and tut from her, I was baffled to find her smiling, telling me to invest. I stood like Teresa May, not in shiny gold trousers but ‘Strong & Stable’, refusing any such expenditure.

I’m not sure if it was the weary hour, the effects of the night before or just plain madness but the next thing I knew H was taping in her credit card details. Now scrolling through the listed jobs with the ability to apply felt incredible, I was empowered. I was freed from window shopping, finally I was a millionaire, and I could make a purchase (application) whenever I felt like it. Despite this initial delight, four or five days passed without an application being completed.

Jobs that I did eventually apply for were standard editing, presenting roles that were naturally ignored as I do have the habit of coming across quite sarcastic in both my CV & cover letter. In fact I’ve never got a job on the merit of my CV, which might make it the worlds worst CV. Fortunately, a job posted as ‘Videographer – to follow a kick boxing world champion around the world with his entrepreneur brother’ required no CV but a short video demonstrating why I was the man for the job.

I remember I made the following video briefly before my friend came over to go to the pub I told him of the opportunity and how I’d applied, questioning whether I should pester the Kickboxer on his personal twitter? I did and showed the video to the pub-wantaway. He hurriedly said ‘its really good mate, yeah its really good … so we going out or what?’. We did and we were ending the night with a curry when a Mr Andrew Tate called to arrange a Skype interview. I naturally stayed out for a few more pints before staggering home for the interview that could lead to the escape from the basement flat.

I spoke to the Tate brothers for about half an hour, we had a mutual understanding of what the series should be within this short space of time. We arranged dates, rates and that was that. I learnt soon after that the Brothers had already employed a filmmaker and were no longer paying attention to the Filmandtvpro applications, it was the personal twitter pestering that had bought me to their attention.

So, the advice I would give to people searching for that elusive comedy job would be the same Ray Kroc the founder/ stealer of MacDonald’s said to himself many a time, ‘Persistence is everything’. However over that it would be that ‘luck is purely a mix of preparation & opportunity’. I’d prepared my whole life by making funny films, and strange documentaries without a patron, no purpose, no need & certainly no viewers. Luckily for me post rave blues credit card generosity/foolishness and two millionaires presented an opportunity for me to utilise such preparation.

If a funny line gets written on a tree in the woods and no one reads it, does it exist?

The biggest challenge for comedy creators is getting your work in front of the right audience. After years of working with new writers and performers, here are 5 things we believe are not always intuitive, but can make the difference.

1. Don’t Write a Sitcom

Or to be more precise, don’t write a sitcom straight away. There is obviously nothing wrong with doing this, it just won’t get you anywhere.

There’s 2 reasons for this. One, its technically very difficult to get right, and two, no one will read it.

Veep and Black Books writer Andy Riley likens new writers writing a sitcom to walking into a gym for the first time and picking up the heaviest dumbbell. You won’t do it right. This is a really important message. Start simple and focussed. A sitcom should evolve from a great idea that’s been polished over time. Don’t dive straight in.

And then more importantly, no one wants to read a sitcom script.

Script editor Andrew Ellard likens showing someone a sitcom script to looking at the blueprints for a house. No one wants to see the detailed blueprints, people want to see a working model, or images that more closely resemble what it should look like.

If you want to get an idea of what a website will look like, you don’t start reading the underlying code. You look at simple mock versions or demonstrations of final product. The same thing applies to presenting a comedy show.

So what can you do instead? Recognise what you are really offering to a production company or commissioner. You are bringing the creativity, the comic style, the ideas and characters. Not the technical framing and packaging. As an up and coming writer, focus on what makes you valuable, and we’ll come on to how to do that again point 5.

2. Don’t create a masterpiece

Obviously we’re not saying don’t write something good. That we would highly recommend. We mean get feedback and make edits early, rather than waiting for perfection.

Getting feedback and editing or cutting your work is one of the hardest things for new writers. But it’s also absolutely necessary. It’s so hard to judge your own work. Even the most experienced writers don’t rely entirely on their own judgment.

To take a phrase used in the business world, ship ugly. Which essentially means get feedback quickly and don’t spend too long perfecting your script or creation before you do.

Do enough to get the idea and characters across, then start testing. As a creative exercise this is really useful as it forces you to distill down what is integral to your comedy, and what isn’t. If it’s not important, you don’t have time to worry about it. What is it about your character or their relationships that is funny? Once you know what this is you can test it and quickly find out whether the idea has real potential.

Ultimately, using this approach you can churn through lots of great ideas and identify which are worth pursuing, rather than putting heart and soul into one that may never have real potential with an audience.

And when you get feedback, take it on board and be willing to make changes. With this approach you have to get used to getting feedback, and that can be daunting… but it’s something you would definitely have to face in any writersroom so its good to experience it early.

The key thing here is to have the right mindset. Be confident enough in your style and humble enough to want to learn, so that deleting jokes you’ve written isn’t so hard. It always is, but remember that you can do something even better.

Which brings us to point 3

3. Give your ideas away

Such a common concern for all creatives is that people will steal our ideas. So we have to protect them from the world. But this is completely the wrong mindset to have. Spending time and energy protecting your creations is a distraction that you can’t afford.

The way to get noticed and progress as a comedy writer is to develop yourself so that you can have many multiple ideas and execute on them in your own comic style.

A great example of this is from one of the early Simpson’s writers – George Meyer. He wrote a short humour magazine and gave away his best stuff to friends for free. Then he invited other people to write for it and enter their contributions. As the magazine grew in popularity Sam Simon found out about it and he offered Meyer a role in the Simpsons writing team. This was based on his comedy style being demonstrated repeatedly. One specific idea wasn’t what stood out, he did.

We recently ran a competition at The Comedy Crowd to write a 2 minute sketch about 2 characters from a family in the year 2050. That’s very specific, and certainly constitutes an idea. But the responses were executed so differently within those constraints that the comedy style and quality really stood out individually. The fact that everyone was “stealing” our idea didn’t lead to the same output.

Would you rather live in a world of scarcity or abundance? One where you have to be constantly wary of people taking the one or two precious winning ideas, or one where ideas are so common people have 10 a day and learn to execute better each time on the ones they find most exciting? Have many ideas, and don’t be afraid to share them.

4. Don’t be a lone writer

By which we mean collaborate with other writers and performers.

When John Cleese talks about his days as part of a sketch troupe in the Cambridge Footlights, he refers to the in-jokes, teasing and mutual helpfulness of the team creating a confidence and feeling of support that was the most motivating force he ever experienced.

Many writers are introverts, and so the natural inclination is to enjoy time spent in our own thoughts. That’s no bad thing, and may be how you produce your best work. You don’t have to work with others at all times, but take opportunities that arise.

There are many ways to collaborate and share skills in comedy. Sketch troupes like John Cleese describes are a great one, but there’s also having a writing partner to bounce ideas off and make each other laugh, writing for an actor like Henry Normal and Steve Coogan, exchanging ideas as part of a social group or community, or attending conferences and comedy events.

The key early on is to say yes. Get involved with other writers and performers, and take the many opportunities to do it.

5. Be creative in your presentation

The way people watch comedy is always changing but the key elements of making comedy remain the same. We can break it down into 3 things:

1. Collaborate with fellow creators and make connections
2. Create funny and engaging content
3. Present it to your audience

The aspect that evolves the most is also the one people spend least time on – how to present your work to an audience.

The internet and smart phones have effectively broken the barriers to entry for writers and performers. Anyone can now share their comedy ideas online, but you still need to do it right to reach your audience. In fact, now that anyone can post their creation online, if you are going down this route it is vital that you have a strategy to make sure you stand out.

Here are 2 examples. The first you will know. Ricky Gervais and Steve Merchant made The Office and are the inspiration for many comedy creators since. But they didn’t pitch a sitcom script alone (unlike the example Ricky Gervais shows from his character Andy Millman in Extras). They filmed rough, short scenes of David Brent being interviewed as a delusional “seedy boss”, and this is what was identified as having potential by the BBC.

An example of those just starting out on their journey comes from some of the creators in our community who recently created a sketch called Chicken Shop Turf Wars. They have made a number of sketches now as part of the Fat Lady Sings sketch group, and the practise is being reflected in the quality of the output.

But what they have done very well is used Facebook to promote and share the video, achieving over 300,000 views in the first 2 weeks by targeting the right audience (including those who like chicken shops – the right audience may not only be comedy fans!). Facebook, with all the information it holds on people’s interests, can be a very effective tool for helping you find an audience.

So think who your audience are and where they are. What do they like to read and watch, what is their attention span? The same applies whether your target audience are fans or industry producers or commissioners. Give them what you know is good, in the format they want to receive it in.

If you want to try this yourself you can start by creating 2 minute videos of your comedy characters and share them on our Chorts! platform. The best Chorts! are screened at festivals and shared with industry producers and commissioners. Check out the Chorts here

Some of the best Chorts! have been shot using a single camera or smart phone. Its all about the comedy character, not production values.

I have just finished reading John Cleese’s autobiography “So, Anyway…”

As an aspiring comedy writer, it is one of the most inspiring books I have ever read.

Cleese succeeded because he followed his ‘passion’ for comedy, and his story contains some great advice for comedy writers and performers.

There are 7 lessons that remain fundamental to modern day comedy creators.

1. Steal

That’s right, steal. John Cleese talks about how difficult it is to become really good at writing comedy. He says:

“If I may give a word of advice to any young writer who, despite the odds, wants to take a shot at being funny, it is this. Steal. Steal an idea that you know is good, and try to reproduce it in a setting that you know and understand. It will become sufficiently different from the original because you are writing it, and by basing it on something good, you will be learning some of the rules of good writing as you go along.”

I’m not a legal expert but I think it’s clear he isn’t talking about infringing copyright. The point I take away is this. Take a successful comedy you really enjoy, study the idea, structure and set up, and practise writing using that format based on your own experiences.

Ultimately as comedy writers we should and will develop our own unique style. But the message here is to be aware of what has worked before and why, to understand what it takes to write a strong comedy script and try applying the techniques to your own work.

2. Generating ideas

Cleese talks about how he and writing partner Graham Chapman came up with ideas for Monty Python. They started by using a Thesaurus.

As usual I picked up Roget’s Thesaurus and started reading words out at random.
‘Buttercup. Filter. Catastrophe. Glee. Plummet.’
‘Ah,’ Said Gra. ‘I like plummet.’
A couple of minutes passed.
‘A sheep would plummet, wouldn’t it?’ one of us said.
‘If it tried to fly, you mean?’ said the other.
‘But why would it want to fly?’
‘To escape?’
A couple of months later the ‘Flying Sheep’ became the first Monty Python skit to be recorded.

This initially struck me as an unusual way to generate comedy ideas. Generally the best ideas come from our own personal experiences (which probably rules out a sheep flying for most people). But it is a really interesting approach, and shows that actually the initial idea is just providing some inspiration, and that the creative development of the idea and characters is what makes it something really funny.

Cleese talks about the difference between realism and believability. You can have a very abstract idea that is in no way “realistic”, but the traits of your characters and how they react to their situation needs to remain consistent and “believable” throughout your sketch or sitcom.

This idea is also developed in one of the brilliant Tony Zhou “Every Frame a Painting” videos about Chuck Jones – Evolution of an Artist, where Tony demonstrates that you can have fantastical characters but they must follow a set of rules.

So maybe a flying sheep isn’t that absurd a place to start after all, as long as the sheep’s response to flying is the same as it’s response to other equally unusual and scary situations it finds itself in.

3. Writing with a partner and in a sketch team

We have talked before on the blog about the benefits of working with others, having a writing partner and being part of a team that can bounce ideas of one another making the creative experience more enjoyable. But to hear it from John Cleese and see how it lead to such great success is very inspiring.

Cleese worked most of his comedy career with writing partner Graham Chapman. They first met in the Cambridge Footlights, and wrote together for many TV shows, films, and of course Monty Python. Cleese says:

When you begin to write comedy, the biggest worry is simply: is this funny? Writing with a partner ensures you get priceless feedback and Graham and I worked together well: we found each other funny, and when we did laugh we really laughed.

Here is his experience of being part of a comedy sketch team for the first time at Cambridge:

What I liked most was being part of a team, and working with a common aim in co-operative spirit. The in-jokes, the friendly teasing and mutual helpfulness created a confidence, a feeling of being emotionally supported, that was the most motivating force that I had ever experienced.

4. The benefits of cutting out material

I know from personal experience how hard it is for new writers to get used to cutting their work, being able to detach yourself from the words that you created and accept that losing it may be for the best.

Here is what John Cleese says about the Cambridge Footlights show once they had started taking it on tour and cutting the material:

Our show had definitely got better since its Cambridge incarnation. It was now only sixty minutes long, teaching us that if you have an average show, and you can dump half of it, it doesn’t get a bit better – it gets a lot better. In fact, there seems to be a basic, rather brutal rule of comedy: ‘The shorter the funnier.’ I began to discover that whenever you cut a speech, a sentence, a phrase or even a couple of words, it makes a greater difference than you would ever expect.

Cleese backs this up by saying how hard it is to write a comedy film, because you cannot keep it consistently funny for more than 30 minutes or so, which means you need to keep the audience engaged through other aspects of the story. For those of us who have not yet been fortunate enough to have a comedy film commissioned, the message here is keep your early writing short, and get used to editing and cutting your work to make it as consistently funny as possible.

5. Productivity and writers block

Everyone who has tried any form of creative writing knows how this feels. Writer’s Block. Seemingly wasting limited time when inspiration just won’t come. It is reassuring to hear John Cleese talk so openly about this:

I would start in the morning with a blank sheet of paper, and I might well finish the day with a blank sheet of paper (and an overflowing waste-paper basket). There are not many jobs where you can produce absolutely nothing in the course of 8 hours, and the uncertainty that produces is very scary. You never hear of accountant’s block or bricklayer’s block; but when you try to do something creative there can be no guarantee anything will happen.

He also talks about how he became more relaxed when writer’s block set it, with the help of Peter Titheradge, former BBC producer and West End revue writer:

[Peter] got me to understand that, if you kept at it, material would always emerge: a bad day would be followed by a decent one, and somehow an acceptable average would be forthcoming. I took a leap of faith, and my experience started to confirm this mysterious principle.

The lesson here it to accept that those days happen even to the best and that slow days are a prelude to good ones. Writer’s block itself is not a problem, but panicking about it is. Which brings me to point 6.

6. The creative principle of anxiety

How we perform, how we are perceived, the impression we give is heavily dependent on our mental state. If we feel confident, we generally portray confidence. And vice versa. A good performance or action leads to a positive feeling.

John Cleese relates these ideas very well to writing comedy:

Writing and performing … taught me an important creative principle: the more anxious you feel, the less creative you are. Your mind ceases to play and be expansive. Fear causes your thinking to contract, to play safe, and this forces you into stereotypical thinking. And in comedy you must have innovation, because an old joke isn’t funny. I therefore came up with Cleese’s Two Rules of Comedy Writing:

First Rule: Get your panic in early. Fear gives you energy, so make sure you have plenty of time to use that energy.

Second Rule: Your thoughts follow your mood. Anxiety produces anxious thoughts; sadness begets sad thoughts; anger, angry thoughts; so aim to be in a relaxed, playful mood when you try to be funny.

This second “rule” is a great tip and one that definitely works for me. It also relates to point 5 about writer’s block. Don’t feel stressed when the ideas won’t flow because that will only encourage anxiety and create a vicious circle. Creating a positive mindset is a far more productive way to bring the best out of your comedy writing.

7. Pursuing activities for love, not money

I wanted to finish on this one because it is both humorous and the real overriding message from the autobiography. Cleese makes this point:

British journalists tend to believe that people who become good at something do so because they seek fame and fortune. This is because these are the sole motives of people who become British journalists. But some people, operating at higher levels of mental health, pursue activities because they actually love them. Thus I was drawn into comedy in a way I can’t quite explain but can definitely acknowledge.

Throughout the autobiography it is clear that John Cleese pursued comedy because he loved doing it, never with a direct long term plan for turning it into a career. The success came as a result of throwing himself into something he enjoyed doing.

This is a principle we can all apply, even if we are not 6 foot 4 with a remarkable gait and a bank of facial expressions to perfectly portray the rising frustration of a hotel manager or dead parrot owner.

The world of entertainment is very different now than it was in the 60s, but it feels like comedy is as relevant as it ever has been before. John Cleese and the Monty Python troupe changed the face of British comedy at the time. There are lessons we can take on to move it forward again today.

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To make sure you stay up to date with the latest opportunities and insights in the world of comedy, join thousands of creators and fans receiving our free weekly newsletter plus when you subscribe you’ll get our e-book – Getting started and making an impact in comedy:

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As you may have gathered I can’t recommend this book highly enough. You can read it yourself through the link below:

Do you want to turn your passion for comedy into a career? Lee Dilley and Paul Farrell started writing together after meeting at university and have worked on a range of comedy projects alongside their day jobs. Now they have co-founded their own production company, Goat Tree Films, and have been privately commissioned to write, produce and direct sitcom pilot ‘In The Dog House’, which premieres on Tuesday 23rd August.

Their journey is one that many Comedy Crowders will relate and aspire to, so we caught up with them to ask about their experience so far.  Their responses contain some great insights about how they write together, what they’ve learned about creating real characters, and why they’re always working on multiple projects.

How did you get into comedy writing?

LD: ‘Very slowly but naturally, like putting on an old pair of slippers. I say naturally, but not easily; first you have to wear the slippers in. From watching comedy such as the Two Ronnies, Morecambe and Wise, Porridge, Black Adder, The Office, Inbetweeners, Fawlty Towers and of course Only Fools And Horses all my life, the next natural step was to imitate them in some shape or form. I was never any good at writing because of my dyslexia, so telling comedy stories verbally was my high. I tried writing but my confidence and inexperience hindered me, I even posted some early work off but I never even got a reply unless it was a bounce back. It’s the equivalent of messaging everyone on a dating app and the only reply is the dating app recommending a different app. At the start the writing isn’t the hard part at all – anyone can write. The hard part is being prepared to be judged on your writing, that’s the real art. Once you shake that bit off you will have the confidence to paint your personality into every word and then the words will start to feel real and breathe. I say this now but I couldn’t call myself a writer until I met my writing partner, Paul during my time at University. He also had a quietened voice, but really wanted to scream about comedy, a love for stories, great dialogue and character arcs. More than that, Paul had something I missed completely, “structure”; if story is King it’s nothing without its Queen of structure. Nail the structure and worst case scenario you’ll still end up with a standing house, 2 out of 3 pigs get this wrong.’

PF: ‘By being that pig for a long time. I’ve always aimlessly written since I was a child without ever realising that it could become a career (that’s still debatable), so once that clicked I went to University and met Lee. Basically, I paid 20 grand to meet my writing partner. I grew up wearing out VHS copies of Only Fools and Horses so comedy is engrained in my writing.’

Tell us about the first comedy script you wrote?

 LD: ‘It was Jobseekers #jobseekerssitcom inspired by the credit crunch and high unemployment rates, we [myself & Paul] didn’t just write it, we made it. I sold my only car, my precious classic Mini to fund the project and what money we had from our dwindling student loans (don’t worry, we’re never paying it back at this rate) we then premiered the pilot at Derby Quad Cinema and BAFTA and we were then signed to a UK Top 100 production company. Since then Jobseekers made it to commissioners’ tables from BBC CH4, ITV and more. Jobseekers unfortunately never got picked up but we had some very interesting feedback and about 50 re-writes during the 2 year pitching process.’

PF: ‘With Jobseekers it really was a crash course for us as new writers, you don’t exactly expect your first script to hit the desks of the major channels but it did (and it’s still sitting on a few). What we learnt was to not get to caught up in one project; you should have a catalogue of scripts and pitches on the go at any one time.’

How did your comedy journey progress?

LD: ‘Stories are about unravelling. Think of a knot in a ball of string, well the character has to find a way to that knot, sometimes making others but eventually they learn the way and all is undone again. The writing process is the same, you have to find your knots, what bugs you, what gets you out of bed in the morning or what stops you going to sleep at night. Find that knot then create a character and set them out to find it, the truth, the answer or question. As you might notice I enjoy a metaphor but I suppose put simply, the journey is one of truth, you have to be truly honest about yourself and why you do things as a character, you might not like what you see but eventually you realise they are natural reactions even if they are selfish, inconsiderate, rude, hurtful etc.. Nobody is perfect which means no character is either and that ‘false knot’ will stand out like a leather jacket at a vegan fair. Be honest it’s human, we have all these emotions for a reason, it’s normal, what isn’t normal is trying to hide it.’

PF: ‘It’s constant evolution. New found knowledge will destroy everything you have ever written but for the better. So the learning journey of the craft is a bumpy one, but the most rewarding. Even though we are only just on the road ourselves, we have written scripts in a variety of formats now from features to stand up. Each having their distinct hidden rules and boundaries to find that you can’t see without launching yourself feet first with eyes open. We are currently working on our latest feature film script called ‘UFHoax’ with all fingers and toes crossed this one will break free of the page.’

You’ve worked in roles as varied as a croupier and a nursery play worker – how important is life experience to being a good writer?

LD: ‘Very important if you want to write about a nocturnal croupier who works as a play worker in the day. Seriously though, I’d say extremely important – I’ve probably had 50 different jobs in my day but it isn’t particularly the job it’s who is doing them and why? People, it’s all about the people. Everyone has a story and experience is listening to and living through other people’s stories.’

PF: ‘Dead end jobs? Truthfully, it adds a grit and determination and a good fear of taking a backwards step if you don’t take an opportunity that appears.’

What would you advise someone who wants to write but doesn’t have a diverse range of life experience?

LD: ‘I’d say go get some! That’s exactly what I told myself at 21, and I went and worked on cruise ships and travelled to 5 continents and 45+ countries to find stories and create my own. Before travelling I created false knots in my stories, stories with part truths, too exaggerated, paper thin characters.’

PF: ‘You’ll write nothing feeling numb, so go out there and feel, good and bad. Also be fully aware that writing is a bizarrely twisted profession. You sit in a dark room in complete and utter self-isolation dreaming up human interactions. So it’s probably best to go out there and learn and experience what you’re going to spend your life banging on about.’

Tell us about your writing process?

LD: ‘So random we could never get assassinated, as a writing duo we meet whenever we can, after work, weekends, on the phone, in the pub before 2 pints. Unfortunately routine can only happen with paid work, and as writers you work for love and then you get money when other people fall in love with your work, which isn’t an easy achievement. I think as a duo it’s best to get the structure, chat about possible problems, outline the characters then go off individually to write jokes and dialogue, then pitch it the other writer as the character. Writing by myself I find 2am is the best time for me, I need absolute quiet, no TV, no phone and no next doors lawnmower. I do write in the morning sometimes but I hit walls quicker, walls not blokes, although it can mean the same thing. Your character might have taken a wrong turn and hit a wall, a bloke means you wrote the wrong character and he can’t get over the wall ‘end of story’. A wall means you need to have a break, usually a shower and find the way your character would try and get over the wall (obstetrical).’

PF: ‘Late Dinner. Gossiping like old women on a bus. Snack break. One great idea. That will do for today.’

How important is it to have a writing partner?

LD: ‘For British comedy it’s usually a duo, although John Sullivan wrote Only Fools And Horses on his own but he’s a comedy genius and an exception to the rule. I imagine it’s very difficult to find a writing partner with the exact same sense of humour, resilience, enthusiasm, goals and most importantly honesty. As a writing duo we lie down like therapy and confess our failures, needs, wants and could never gets.’

PF: ‘Its main benefit is having an audience member with you at all points so your ideas are always being challenged and questioned. ‘Why’ is our favourite word as you have to challenge every single word in a script. We usually find if one of us really fights for an idea it usually means they’re right.’

Tell us about Goat Tree Films

LD: ‘The name is all about how we as a couple of working class blokes look odd as writers, and so does a goat in a tree. However it seems to work somehow, and bonus, it’s funny to look at. Our mantra is we believe a great story promotes change. We also promote women in media, which brings us onto the next question nicely, that’s another thing about writing… plan ahead.’

PF: ‘We’ve always felt slightly like the out crowd, a couple of unfashionable filmmakers who don’t go home and watch a 1921 film from Botswana. We watch Jurassic Park. So Goat Tree felt perfectly awkward for us. Plus we also don’t have very catchy names.’

Tell us about your current project, ‘In the Dog House’?

PF: ‘ In The Dog House is a sitcom pilot inspired by the books of Sid Jenkins, who has devoted over 50 years of his life to animal welfare. It follows a group of naive kennel workers who go rogue to solve animal related crimes.

Finally, what advice would your current self give to your past-self at the point you started on your writing journey?

LD: ‘I would probably say nothing, because the truth would be, you’re not going to make it this year or the next, or the next and it’s going to cost you a lot of money and time. Sometimes it’s better not to warn yourself of the end goal because you won’t enjoy the ride. Or I’d say, structure, get the structure write you stupid prick do you realise how much we’ve had to write around your problems, move scenes, delete scenes, erase characters, days and weeks wasted.’

PF: ‘Those that talk the talk, rarely walk the walk.’

Tickets to the premiere of Lee and Paul’s latest comedy In The Dog House can be bought here .

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Ever had a really exciting comedy idea and been worried someone might steal it?

Or maybe you had a great idea but just never got round to doing anything with it.

As creators we’ve all been there. But the thing is, an idea really isn’t worth anything on it’s own.

I read an article by Derek Sivers this week that really hit home and got me thinking about how well the principle of idea vs execution applies to comedy and creative arts in general.

Derek Sivers is a musician turned entrepreneur who founded CD Baby to help musicians without a record label make money for their work. He’s a bit of an inspiration for our mission to help comedy creators.

In the article he explains really clearly how a great idea is worth so little without great execution, and that a bad idea well executed can be huge.

Think of this in terms of comedy. When we have an idea and start actually writing it as a script, it will change. Later the script will be interpreted by actors, and it will change. The performance will be recorded and will change in the edit. Then the footage will be shown to an audience who will react in a way that will leads us to change every part again.

In one cycle we have come so far from the initial idea, and yet are so much closer to it actually being something real. We have brought the parts together and made something that people can experience.

There’s a great idea now on the collaboration board from a Comedy Crowder that created excitement and got people thinking. But who knows if it will be as good as a bad chat show host with an Abba theme tune, three priests and their housekeeper on a quiet Irish island, or a middle manager of a paper merchant with no self awareness.

Ideas are great because they are the initial spark that brings excitement and inspiration. Great execution of the idea by writers, actors and a production team are what makes it come to life.

If you have an idea write it down, find out what people think, see it acted out and how people react to it. Don’t waste the inspiration, because without executing an idea really isn’t worth holding on to.

Many people have these doubts and don’t ever get started because of it. Don’t be one of them.

Whether writing, performing or producing content, we put our sense of humour, body, soul and arse on the line and say I think this is funny, do you agree?

And that is scary because there is an indisputable answer. Either someone laughs or they don’t.

This may explain why we ask the question “am I funny enough to make comedy?” To me it is a strange question to ask. We would never be so quick to judge other skills we can develop with a crude yes or no.

We don’t ask “am I good enough to play football?” or “am I good enough to play the piano?” If we enjoy doing it we practice, and the more we practice the better we get. There are physical attributes that mean the difference between being the best in the world and just a very good amateur, but we know if we play often enough we will improve.

And we wouldn’t immediately sign for Barcelona, or perform at the Royal Opera House. No one expects us to. We find people of a similar standard to practice and play with, and build up skills while learning from those with more experience.

So why have the mindset that we are either funny enough to make comedy or not, as if it is an entirely natural thing?

Unless you are the loudest “joker” in your group of friends, which I for one am not, you might worry that telling friends or family about your comedy ideas will lead them to say “you’re not funny, how can you be a comedian”? There is an odd perception that to deliberately portray things as funny when you put your mind to it, you must also be constantly making people laugh as you go through the day. This just isn’t true.

My response to this would be “you like to ski, but you are not skiing now in the kitchen”, or “you play football, but you are not winning headers here in the office”.

We shouldn’t treat comedy as being different to other things we do. Based on my experience writing and from conversations with more established creators, here’s some questions I believe are far more useful to ask before deciding if you can be funny enough to do it (feel free to add any of your own in the comments):

1. Do I enjoy making people laugh when I put my mind to it? Having passion is vital, because we can only really improve at something if we are getting some reward back from it. The act of comedy is portraying things in a way that makes people laugh. If that gives you a buzz, you are starting in the right place.

2. Am I willing to be a beginner? This one is hard in comedy because you have to learn what works for you and what doesn’t, and the only way to do that is by trying something that is meant to be funny and not getting a reaction to it. Embrace being a beginner and know that it’s ok to get it wrong. In fact it’s not only ok to get it wrong, it’s necessary. If you accept that not everything you write or perform or do will get the reaction you want, then you are on the right lines.

Also don’t try too much too soon, and don’t expect to write a full sitcom that will be commissioned by the BBC as your first project. Start simple. Write a sketch or film a monologue. Practice writing or performing with people of a similar standard while learning from those with more experience.

3. Can I find a like-minded audience with a shared sense of humour? Not everyone will find the same things funny that you do. Even the best comedy shows and performances do not have everyone in fits of laughter. Big names such as Stewart Lee and Ricky Gervais can be very polarising, but they are excellent at delivering their own style of comedy and they do make people with a similar sense of humour laugh. It comes down to confidence in your own sense of humour, and giving real thought to who else finds the same things funny.

4. Am I willing to learn? This is linked to being a beginner, but it’s a step on from that. To become good at something you need to actively receive and understand feedback. By understand I mean really appreciate whether something is being criticised because of a subjective difference of opinion, or because there is genuinely something that can be improved in what you are doing. The more opinions you receive the easier it will be to recognise these patterns. Be humble enough to take on feedback when trying things out, but open minded enough to know why you are getting a particular reaction.

If you can do these things, combining an enjoyment of making people laugh with an acceptance of being a beginner, a willingness to learn and finding a like-minded audience, then yes, you can be funny enough to create comedy. And if you have read this far, I highly recommend you give it a try.

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Warning. The following article contains quotes from UK sitcom “The Office”, showing how an expertly crafted comedy inspired a generation. If you are not fluent in The Office language, you may find this confusing. If you do speak “Office“, you may find this entertaining. Or not. It’s up to you. Your own decisions.

15 years ago this month the amusing conundrum that is office life was brilliantly presented to us by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant.

Watching the show as a teenager, I was blissfully ignorant to the apparent boredom and monotony of regular office “work” and yet somehow felt as though I resonated deeply with these characters.

The awkwardness was so refreshing, the creation of painful moments through the use of silence. This was very familiar to someone still at school and surrounded by those who seemed destined to one day throw a kettle over a pub, and those who would be left floundering using an official territorial army method.

It was while attending university a few years later that the impact of The Office really started to hit home. By this time it had become a private language to those in the know, which turned out to be students who had never worked a day at a sub-branch paper merchant, let alone visited Slough, Winersh or Taplow.

People worth making acquaintance with were as likely to identify themselves through an Office quote, expertly placed into conversation, as they were by a shared love of music or sport. Hearing an off the cuff remark by someone you had never spoken to followed by a shared response of “Fray Bentos” or “8 legs, 6 legs”. No other words required to make a connection.

Those that did become close friends expanded on the language, replacing regular phrases with Office based terminology. A defeat in an argument now ended with “oooh, you’re hard, showing off ‘cause of the…” or simply “go get the guitar”.

The influence spread far beyond university life. Similar interactions over an acknowledged quote have resulted in work-based friendships, as the generation that once laughed at office life from afar took their place at an open plan desk with the accounts team. Don’t be fooled by the name, they are mad.

Recently a university friend and fellow Office language graduate told me how on his first day at a new job he overheard his boss inform an unsuspecting colleague that nicknames are bad.. names. An assertion that the toad is the ugliest of all the amphibians later and a successful career path had been established.

Perhaps a less surprising influence from the Office language generation is on new comedy.

Following the success of Gavin and Stacey (an excellent sitcom in it’s own right) James Corden and Matthew Horne created a sketch show so strongly influenced by The Office that people immediately criticised it for being a copy of David Brent mannerisms.

At The Comedy Crowd we recently interviewed Steve Stamp, writer of hit BBC3 sitcom People Just Do Nothing, who explained how The Office had inspired him and his group of friends to create their own show that they found funny rather than trying to fit the requirements of a production company or commissioning body. The influence here is not as stark as in the Horne and Corden sketch show, but in MC Grindah’s character in particular the Brent effect is clear for those fluent in Office lingo. Undoubtedly Ricky Gervais and Steve Merchant have inspired the younger comedian.

So what does this mean?

It’s what Gareth was saying before about if you’ve got your own bone; don’t go after other people’s bones because you’ll lose your own.

It also shows just how engaging and influential comedy can be.

So here’s a question. Have you ever thought about creating comedy yourself and seeing whether you can portray the things you find funny in a way that engages other people and makes them laugh?

Rather than just using Ricky Gervais’ and Stephen Merchant’s quotes in conversation (which we absolutely recommend fellow Office language specialists continue to do), why not see if there’s a weight of intellect behind your comedy?

You don’t need to quit your job or go full time to do it. There are so many examples of people making great comedy as a hobby that finds a fanatical audience and ends up being something more. You can still be someone’s boss or friend. But now you can be a friend first, a boss second, and probably an entertainer third.

Here’s another question. How many comedy shows have influenced you as much as The Office in the 15 years since it was released? Probably not many. Times are changing though with the progress of digital media and new ways to reach an audience. Opportunities are opening up for talented new voices to make an impact. You see the world of comedy is now one big pie… No you don’t want the pie thing.

We believe in talented people getting the chance to find their funny voice and make an impact. But above all we want to see more quality like The Office. If you agree and making comedy sounds like something you want to do, start trying out your ideas with like-minded comedy fans and see what you can achieve.

Who knows, maybe you could be the next writer to go out there and give laughter, and be remembered simply as the man who put a smile on the face of all who he met.

by Jonathan Jayson

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We’ve heard from many writers and performers in the industry recently about their journey in comedy and we noticed a common theme. So many successful comedians started out in sketch groups. Which got us thinking, what is it about sketch groups that makes them such a great breeding ground for new comedy talent?

We came up with 8 reasons we believe sketch groups work well for creative people looking to make an impact in comedy:

1. It gets you into a routine. It’s easy to say you want to get into comedy, but actually using your spare time to do it is another matter. Even if you love it, sometimes the actual act of doing is harder than it should be. If you are part of a sketch group you will have regular meet ups, performance dates, writing deadlines, and other people to keep you in check and find that inspiration.

2. Learn from people with different ideas. You know what you find funny is funny, otherwise you wouldn’t find it funny, right? Or something like that. But you will be surprised how much you can learn from sharing ideas with other people, and being able to find out what they think of yours. Learning what other creators do well and not so well is such a good way to develop your own skills.

3. Find out which people you work well with and which you don’t. This is a natural thing for everyone. You will work better with some types of people than others. If you are working in a day job outside of comedy you will probably have identified types of people you click with and others you really don’t. The same will be true for your creative side, and there’s no better way to find out than by experimenting. Sketch groups provide the perfect environment to do this as a team of 4 or 5 people will inevitably have different styles but is small enough to work closely together.

4. Learn to create funny content. Sketches are a great way to make sure you focus your writing and keep it consistently funny. By their nature sketches are short, so you don’t have time to indulge. Sketch writing helps you practise getting those laughs out quickly.

5. Try out both performance and writing. If you are a writer who has never performed, how can you appreciate whether actors really understand your script? Similarly if you are a performer who has never written comedy, you are missing out on a fundamental part of the creative process. Sketch groups often have a combination of writers and performers, and giving both art forms a go is a great way to develop your skills.

6. See your writing brought to life immediately. As a writer it is hard to know what parts of your work are really funny until you see them performed. If you are part of a sketch group you can see your work performed immediately by people who understand your style of comedy, rather than having to find a group of actors and writers for a specific read through every time you produce something new. This instant feedback is so helpful and is a major advantage of collaborating.

7. Start at no pressure events. Comedy sketch nights are becoming increasingly popular and are a great way to test out your material in what will probably be a relatively small venue of comedy enthusiasts. There really is no substitute for doing, and performing at these events allows you to learn how an audience reacts to your comedy.

8. Creating with others is great fun and inspiring. The whole point of making comedy is to make other people laugh. As part of a sketch group you will always be trying to make each other laugh through the creative process, and this is just a more entertaining way to create than in isolation.

As we said at the top many great comedians started out this way and went on to make a career in the industry. This certainly doesn’t mean you have to follow the same path, but clearly it has been a great starting point for many people now working full time in comedy. Some of the more famous examples include Hugh Lawrie, Stephen Fry and Rowan Atkinson creating sketches in the Cambridge Footlights, Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders. There are too many to list here but reasons 1 to 8 have clearly benefited the skills of many great comedians who have become legends in the genre.

So if you want to develop your comedy skills, have some fun, and start to make an impact, joining a sketch group will be a great place to start. Give it a try, you never know where it could lead.

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One of the greatest British comedy writers and performers of the last 20 years passed away this week. Caroline Aherne was a major influence on many comedy fans including Peter and I, which got us thinking about what aspiring creators can learn from her work. There are 3 things that really stand out to us, and underlines why she was able to make such a big impact:

1. Collaboration with like-minded writers and performers.  Caroline’s work with Henry Normal and Craig Cash in particular shone through in Mrs Merton and The Royle Family. All northern based comics with shared experiences growing up, their unique skills resulted in perfectly executed comedy that would not have been possible without their combined voices

2. Staying true to her creative vision. When making the Royle Family, Caroline faced significant pressure from BBC executives to film on location and include a laughter track. Partly due to her success with Mrs Merton she was able to resist this, and the show would almost certainly not have had the same impact had those changes been made

3. Get out there and do it. Steve Coogan said this week “she could easily have just remained a funny girl working as a secretary, so it’s great that she became a household name instead, and so many people got to see her and have that joy.”

By Simon Paul Miller

My name is Simon Paul Miller and I’m an addict. The 12^th September 2013 was the day I got addicted. Before that, I just dabbled. I started by submitting a couple of one-liners, it seemed harmless enough, but then I moved on to the harder stuff, sketches. I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong. I crave the next high I’ll get when an email will pop into my inbox telling me I have something in that night’s edition of Newsjack.

I can try to remember the first time it happened, but it’s not like a normal memory. It’s like a memory of a dream. The email was vague in detail as, by necessity, it was the same email sent out to all the writers who’d managed to get something in. Once I’d recovered from the shock, and my family had recovered from my reaction, I was left with the thought… What was it they were going to use? Was it the sketch I’d sent in or one of my one-liners, or maybe more than one, or maybe a sketch and some one liners!

Normally, I’d listen Newsjack as a downloaded podcast over the weekend, but I had to know. Over the next five and a bit hours, I pondered over and over as to which material had made it. My heart pounded, my head buzzed and I only had a vague sense the real world was still around me. At about 10:20 I tuned our TV into Radio 4 Extra. I’d never listened to the radio on TV before. It’s very strange watching a radio show. It feels pointless looking at the screen but also odd not to.

The programme on before Newsjack consisted of two people shouting at each other. They appeared to think they were funny, I couldn’t tell. Eventually that programme ended. It was 10:30. The announcer wittered on and on and on and on, for thirty three seconds, before the Newsjack theme finally started. There was no monologue then, Justin Richards launched into one-liners sent in and I didn’t have long to wait. The third joke was mine…

“The Sunday Times has revealed that residents of Coleshill in North Warwickshire have the highest rate of Viagra prescriptions in the country. No one from the town was available for comment.”

And the audience roared. Wow! Fantastic! I loved it. I devoured it. Then listened to the rest of the show in what proved to be a vain hope that something else I’d submitted had been accepted. And then they read out the names of people who’d written the stuff on the show. I knew they did that, but I hadn’t thought about it. Any second now, my name was going to be read out.

But it wasn’t. I was confused. I tried to figure out why. Maybe they only included people who’d written sketches, but there were many more names than sketches. Maybe they didn’t include people who’d only had one one liner on the show. It didn’t matter. My joke had been told on the radio. It took a long time to get to sleep that night.

The next day I found out, on Twitter, that an error had been made and, as a result, a small number of contributors had been omitted from the credits. The team apologised on Twitter and a number of irate comments were tweeted back (none from anyone who’d been omitted). Sure, I was disappointed not to have heard my name, but given the enormity of the task the Newsjack team have to achieve, to get through all the submissions and produce a show in about 48 hours, I can not only understand how it happened, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more frequently.

I’d noted that my joke had had six words removed. (If you’re interested, my version started, “The residents of the town of Coleshill in North Warwickshire have been revealed by the Sunday Times as having the highest rate…”; if your not, skip this bit in brackets.) I took a note from this to work harder at making my jokes more succinct, maybe it would improve my chances of success.

Having actually got something on the show, I was now a lot more enthusiastic, and a lot more optimistic, as I tackled the task of extracting humour from the week’s news for the next deadline. On Thursday, I kept refreshing my in box, expecting the Newsjack email to appear. It didn’t arrive. I listened to the show that night, just in case there’d been a problem in sending the emails out, but no, I hadn’t succeeded.

The next week, I had to go out that Thursday night, and left leaving the house as late as possible to see if I’d got ‘the’ email. At 6:45pm I had to accept I had failed again to make the show. Maybe, I thought, my success had been a one off, never to be repeated.

It wasn’t till the following morning I discovered that I had got an email and had got this one liner on the show….

“New research has found that companies who employ a significant number of women bosses perform better than those dominated by men – mainly because the companies spend less on salaries.”

This time, it was exactly as I’d written it and my name was read out in the credits. For the next three weeks, every spare moment was spent scouring the papers for stories I could make a joke from. I also managed to get tickets to see episodes five and six being recorded. I was in the audience, fingers crossed, wondering if the next joke or sketch would be mine. Both times I would make the long train journey home, from London to Leamington Spa, disappointed.

For series ten I set myself a goal to get at least three one liners or one sketch in the series.

The deadline for sketches is midday Monday. This gives writers who don’t have to work on Monday mornings an advantage over those of us who do. We have to finish off our sketches on Sunday night, or in the early hours of Monday morning. The deadline for one-liners is midday Tuesday, so on Monday nights I would be agonising over which of my precious one-liners to send in. Back then, in the good old days, the limit was as many one-liners you could fit on a page.

Deciding which one-liners to send is a form of self-inflicted, psychological torture. I’d ask friends to rate my jokes but, once I got the results back, I’d often be looking at choosing between jokes that had been rated averagely by all the panel or jokes rated highly by some but totally disliked by others. And if only it were as simple as being funny and topical! If two writers send in the same joke, the production team discard it, so you need to consider how likely it is that another writer will send in the same joke. This is what I call ‘The Newsjack Dilemma.’ I can’t be the only Newsjack writer who’s heard a one liner on the show that matched one I’d discarded, the irony being if I had sent it in, neither I nor the other writer would have got it on the show.

One problem with writing for the show is that I found myself becoming very critical of jokes that did make it into the show, especially in the weeks when I’d not had anything accepted, i.e. most weeks. There’s bound to be at least one joke that will make me think, ‘they picked that over one of my mine!’ But there is no definitive measurement of how funny a joke is. It’s a personal thing that varies from person to person.

The inverse of this, however, is when I hear a joke that I think is much better than the one I sent in on a particular topic. Jimmy Carr says you don’t make jokes, you discover them. It’s like trying to solve a puzzle and when I hear a better solution than one I thought of, I really enjoy and appreciate the writer’s wit- whilst kicking myself for not finding the joke for myself.

After five episodes of season ten had aired without a single credit, my confidence had taken a blow, my goal was unreachable and I was desperate to get something, anything, on. A new production team had taken over the show and I’d convinced myself that my sense of humour was incompatible with theirs. I’d noticed, indeed it had irritated me, that the new team were often picking jokes that were not topical so, for my last page of one liners for that series, I included jokes that were not so closely linked to that week’s news and it worked…

“The farmer, who erected solar panels so large they blocked out the sun, has been arrested on a charge of daylight robbery.”

A few weeks before series eleven started, an email was sent out to all the writers who’d had something accepted in the previous series inviting us to a meeting held in a pub’s basement near Broadcasting House. As far as I know, this was a one off event. Never repeated, possibly because there were complaints made that it was unfair to writers not in a commutable distance to London. I enjoyed the evening but there wasn’t much information to be gleaned that wasn’t available on the web site. I wish I’d had time to stay afterwards and socialise with the other writers, but I had to catch my train. I did manage to speak to a couple of writers just before it started. They’d both had sketches accepted and both had commented that their sketches had been changed quite a lot by a script editor before being recorded. Another thing that came out was that the producers, Charlie Perkins and Arnab Chanda (who appeared to me to be the youngest in the room), had been told that series ten, their first, was not topical enough and they’d be looking to rectify this. So my new tactic to send in non-topical jokes was unlikely to work again.

I went into series eleven with a renewed feeling of optimism, but, like series ten, after five episodes I had not achieved a credit. It was late on Monday 27^th October. I needed to go to bed but I was one one liner short of the limit I could send in. I didn’t want to waste that spot when I found a newly posted story on the internet that inspired this joke…

“Claims that listening to Bohemian Rhapsody can cure illness have been confirmed by doctors after they managed to cure one poor boy, from a poor family…”

On paper, I didn’t think it was a great joke, so I was really surprised that, not only did it get on the show, but also that it got a huge laugh from the audience.

I didn’t get anything in the next series. Over time, it’s got tougher to get things on the show. Not only had he number of submissions gone up but, because the team were receiving so much material, the number of one liners you could submit had dropped from as many you could fit on one page, to nine, (six breaking news and three TV listings), and then to six (three breaking news and three Viewsjacks).

Another possible reason (excuse?) I came up with for my lack of success was a change in the format of the show where the first eight minutes of the show is taken up by an introduction, normally about a topic that has occurred in the news after the submission deadline. I can see why they did this, it makes the show more topical. With this format the show did win the Rose d’Or Best Radio Comedy Award for 2015, but it does mean less submitted material makes it into the show. I had assumed they had cut the number of one liners they used but when I compared an episode I’d kept from 2013 to one in 2016, the number of one liners were about the same (the 2016 episode had 20 one liners compared to 21) but the number of sketches had dropped dramatically, from 17 to eight.

So having come up with some excuses, I was very pleased to achieve two credits in series thirteen. The first one was my first Viewsjack item, where you have submit lines where a member of the public voices an opinion …

“[SECRETIVE] I am really worried that Ashley Madison will find out I’m using another infidelity dating website.”

And once again I managed to get a News item in the last episode of the series…

“As part of a cull on big brand names, Tesco’s have stopped stocking Carlsberg lager. A statement from Carlsberg said it was unable to comment, but if Carlsberg could comment, it would probably be the rudest comment you’d ever heard.”

For series fourteen, the most recent as I write this, I failed to get any credits. Of course, I’ve come up with an excuse. Despite my efforts to the contrary, the rehearsals and recording of my Rhyming Detective Podcast (which I had to write, organise and perform in) clashed with this series air dates. As a result, I only sent in five sketches over the whole series and rarely achieved getting six one liners, never mind having a list to pick from.

So I’ve managed to get six credits on Newsjack, all for one liners. No success on sketches for Newsjack yet although I did get an email back for one of four sketches I sent to Newsjack’s sister show ‘The Show What You Wrote’ in 2016. This is a Radio 4 Extra show that consists of four episodes a series and does not appear to have a fixed slot in the schedules. In the email they said…

“This is just to let you know that something what you wrote is very good, and we’ve put it under consideration for the recordings. We don’t think there’s any more work that needs to be done on it, so you don’t need to do anything else for now … It might *not* get recorded – we’ve asked for rewrites on a lot of things, and obviously we want to be picking from a larger pile of sketches than we can use – but I’d say at this stage it stands a very good chance.”

Alas, my sketch didn’t make the final recording, but I’m glad I managed to get to the first recording session in Manchester and see my sketch being recorded (as well as seeing Jason Mansford live). Had I not gone, I wouldn’t have known that my elderly, male executive character had been recast as a young woman and the young, female producer had been recast as an older woman. The sketch started well, got some good laughs but then, probably not helped by a fluff which resulted in the sketch being restarted, the end of the sketch failed to get any laughs. However, to quote from the very nice letter from the BBC informing me it hadn’t made the final edit, “You wrote one of the 80 best sketches we read out of about 2,500”.

So maybe next series I’ll finally get a sketch in Newsjack. Maybe then, my addiction will be cured and I won’t feel the need to send something in for every episode. Of course, when I say I’m addicted, actually I could give up whenever I wanted to. I could. Honest, I could.

Simon Paul Miller is the creator of The Rhyming Detective podcast.

If you like this article check out another of Simon’s posts on getting an audience for a live event.