We posed 2 sketch writing questions to comedy coach Chris Head.

1. How do you generate ideas for a sketch?
2. How do you end a sketch?

The answers are like a detailed “how to” for comedy sketch writing. Hugely insightful and a must read for anyone interested in the art. Here they are:

1. Any tips for finding ideas or premises for sketches? Not just topical sketches like Newsjack, but sketches in general?

Unless you happen to conveniently already have a funny idea, the best way to generate an idea for a sketch is to start with a real situation from life and work step-by-step towards a sketch idea. Below is a process to produce sketch ideas from everyday life situations; e.g, in a shop, at the doctor’s, on a date etc… Follow this 3 or 4 step process to generate a sketch. You can stop at step 3 if you have a viable idea that tickles you or you can proceed to step 4 to try and heighten the idea. And of course if you don’t get an idea that tickles you, then return to the start and work through it again.

Step 1

Choose a situation from life. Below are a few I’d suggest. Do add some or make your own list. The main thing is not to try and think of a funny subject area. Play it straight at this stage. Note, you can modify this process for parody sketches. Simply start with a list of programmes or movies etc instead of life situations. And to produce topical or satirical sketches start with a list of news stories.

Focusing on everyday life situations:

Work

Home life

Friends/ social life

Family

Institutions

Sport

Shopping

Services

Travel

Teaching & training

Pick one and then reflect on situations in this context that you have either:

– experienced directly

– or witnessed first hand

– or been told about second hand

You are looking for situations that were in some way absurd.

If you were in the situation yourself:

– You can either be the one struggling with the absurdity

– Or the cause of the absurdity (and the other party is the one trying to deal with it)

Or you may have witnessed it or heard about it. If find yourself having trouble thinking of something absurd, you can take a step further back and ask yourself what annoyed you. Once you have found something annoying then ask yourself what is absurd about it. Being annoyed (or even angry) can be a good starting point but to get it to somewhere funny you need to identify the absurdity.

Here’s a simple example of an absurdity. This morning a delivery man appeared at my doorstep (home life) and was fiddling around with papers and asking me to sign for something but he hadn’t told me what it was and it was not in sight. In this case it was an oversight but before he cleared it up there is a clear absurdity right there.

Keep a notebook of these kinds of observations – they can turn into sketches.

An example that became a classic sketch is when Michael Palin returned a car to the garage he’d bought it from because there were problems with it. The absurdity was the mechanic denying there was a problem with the vehicle when blatantly there was. He told John Cleese about this situation in conversation and Cleese felt there was a sketch in it.

Step 2: Set up the dynamic

Having identified a situation with an absurdity you then need to set up the sketch dynamic. You will need two points-of-view (POV) in the sketch.

– The absurd point-of-view (the protagonist)

– The normal everyday point-of-view (the foil)

The one with the absurd POV is the comic protagonist: they are stopping the situation from proceeding normally, reasonably or logically. The one with the normal POV is the foil as their reactions are needed to heighten the absurdity and create the comedy.

The simplest way is to make it a two-hander but you can have any number of characters as long as there are two points of view. For example, a three-hander with two points-of-view could be a married couple with the normal POV and a marriage guidance counsellor with the absurd POV. Or on a bigger scale twenty-two footballers with a normal POV and one referee with an absurd POV.

In the case of the faulty car:

– Normal POV: customer – the foil

– Absurd POV: mechanic – the protagonist

Now you need to ask yourself why the protagonist holds that absurd perspective. Normally it’s:

– They just do. It’s the McGuffin of the sketch. You don’t need to explain it or justify it.

But sometimes there is added value in giving them a motive. Here there is a strong sense that the mechanic is trying to fob the customer off to avoid expense and work. The alternative would be he is simply mad and genuinely doesn’t see any problems with the car.

And finally, boil down the situation into a game:

The game of the car sketch for the protagonist (the mechanic) is to get the customer to accept there is no problem with the car and to go away.

The game for the foil is to make the mechanic accept that there is a problem.

They stick to their POVs and play out this game. The game is them trying to solve their problems. The customer’s problem is his car is broken, the mechanic’s problem is he doesn’t want to spend time and money dealing with this car. OR if the mechanic is simply mad, from his POV his problem is trying to make the customer see there is no problem with the car. (If you follow that fine distinction).

Step 3: Heighten the absurdity

Now you have your situation, absurdity and characters you can now find the funniness by asking yourself:

What would make the situation more absurd?

Or from the character’s points-of-view:

What would make the problem worse for your foil? Or put another way, how could the protagonist’s attempts to solve their problem and get what they want be more absurd?

Here you take the existing situation and heighten the absurdity. In the case of the delivery man not revealing what he is delivering, in reality he quite soon realised his oversight and told me. In the sketch version you can heighten the absurdity by having him simply refusing to reveal what it is (is it a letter, a parcel, a fridge, a three piece suite…) until he has a signature. The recipient would be reluctant to sign and would want to find out what the thing is. The deliver man would refuse until he had a signature. And so on. Going round and round this argument with both characters sticking to the game and trying to solve their problem is what makes a sketch.

In the case of Michael Palin’s car situation, Cleese and Chapman wrote it up into a sketch for the 60s sketch show How to Irritate People (Chapman and Palin performed the sketch). The absurdity was heightened by the foil’s problems with the car being dangerous and blatant – eg the gear stick comes off, the doors fall off etc. The protagonist’s attempts to solve their problem, to get out of dealing with the car, are even more unreasonable and ridiculous than in real life.

Notice that YOU ONLY NEED ONE IDEA FOR A SKETCH! New writers often try too hard. They think: it can’t be enough, just having this man trying to get his car fixed! I have to introduce more funny ideas. YOU DON’T! Just develop and heighten this one idea, which is what Cleese and Chapman do.

This is enough to make a sketch. You can stop here is you have an idea that is tickling you. If you want to try and more out of it, move on to the next step.

Step 4. Change the given circumstances

If you want to try and get more out of the sketch you can try changing the given circumstances of the original situation. They key thing is to maintain the game and the dynamic. For example:

Change WHO: Try changing the protagonist or the foil to different characters. Eg: make one or both children or babies or dogs or celebrities or ghosts etc..

Change WHERE: Move the characters and situation to a different context.

Change WHEN: Move it to the past or the future.

For our delivery sketch, I think there could be mileage in changing where it takes place – e.g. it’s in the maternity ward of a hospital and the midwife won’t reveal the sex of the baby being delivered. This is upping the ante – it can often be an idea to look at how you can up the ante of the scenario. Or you could change when and put it in a historical period but keep everything we recognise about modern day deliveries.

In the case of the faulty car sketch, when Cleese and Chapman revisited the idea for Monty Python, Chapman suggested instead of someone taking a car back to a garage it could be someone taking a parrot back to a pet shop. Then the question is: what’s wrong with it? The answer: it’s dead, that’s what’s wrong with it.

They also introduced an additional game for the foil, the customer. He has to find as many different ways of saying the parrot is dead as possible. Notice that this is not simply because it’s funny; he is trying to solve his problem of getting the pet shop owner to recognise the parrot is dead.

You can make all sorts of changes. For example:

Change HOW: This could be how characters are behaving, speaking, moving.

Change WHAT: Change what the central object or subject is.

Change WHY: Change the character’s reasons or motivations for their actions.

All of these kinds of changes have potential comic mileage provided the starting point was a real, recognisable situation. If you start with an unreal funny idea it can drift too far away from anything recognisable and not be grounded in anything the audience recognise.

Then write the sketch!

The last thing to do is write the dialogue. An issue writers can have with sketches is that they launch into dialogue before everything is thought through. Starting to write dialogue with unclear POVs, an ill-defined dynamic between the characters, little sense of the game of the sketch or what problems the characters are trying to solve is a recipe for producing an unclear and ultimately unfunny sketch. Audiences do not laugh if they are struggling to make sense of things like: who are these people, where are they, what do they want, what’s stopping them from getting it…

And finally, the structure to write your sketch in is:

Set-up: Establish the who, where, what etc. The given circumstances. Do this economically. (There can be laughs here but the game, the central comic idea, is not yet revealed).

Reveal: Having set it all up you now reveal the game of the scene.

Escalation: The characters play the game; they try and solve their problems.

Pay-off: A surprise conclusion or twist.

And how do you generate a pay-off? See my answer to the next question!

2. Can you give some tips for writing effective sketch endings / resolutions?

Yes, endings can be the biggest problem with sketches. John Cleese bemoaned that he and Graham Chapman would write a sketch in a morning, then spend another week trying to end it. Python themselves of course abolished the punchline with meta endings and stream-of-consciousness flowing from one thing to the next. Aside from doing that, here are three initial very common and effective endings. I will explore in a follow up response…

A VERY common ending. The straight character suddenly buys into the worldview, or takes on the behaviour, of the funny one.
eg: If in the sketch a man has gone into a library, asking reasonable questions but shouting his head off, then the reversal pay-off has the hitherto straight librarian shouting their head off.
This is either done inexplicably or in a calculated way. See Fry & Laurie’s policeman/ name sketch for a calculated version.

Another classic. It looks for a moment like the torment is over for the persecuted character, or the problem is solved, but in fact it isn’t. False dawns can also work mid-sketch – they can serve as a breather in the escalation.
e.g: A waiter has been getting two diners more and more annoyed by bringing the wrong dishes. Finally it seems he has understood and is now going to bring the right dish. The couple relax, but he gets it wrong again (but in a new or more extreme way).
See the ending of Rowan Atkinson’s Fatal Beatings.

A new character comes in and enters the situation.
It may be that we know what’s going to happen but they don’t. (Dramatic irony.)
Or they can be a way of the sketch starting again, the whole thing going full-circle (see below).
Or they can changes our perspective on the situation or the existing characters’ relationship to one another. (A way to bring out an ‘extra killer fact’). e.g: A patient has been struggling with a very strange doctor in a hospital. Then a psychiatric doctor comes in and takes the original “doctor” back to the mental ward.
See Armstrong & Miller’s man who doesn’t know what his job is.

Here are some further ending ideas:

Extra killer fact
A revelation that casts everything that came before in a new light. Be wary of these though. Make sure the sketch is funny in its own right prior to the pay-off. (Or make it a quickie).
e.g: We don’t discover until the end that the two women chatting about babies are actually chatting about their husbands.

Variation
The punchline provides a variation on the central joke.
e.g: If the sketch was about the mayor complaining that squirrels were being employed to drive buses, the variation could be underground trains being driven by lemurs. (Bit surreal but you get the idea!)

Meta ending
The artifice of the situation is acknowledged, or the illusion is broken in some way, or the conventions of the performance situation are broken or exposed.
E.g: “I’ve forgotten the punchline for this sketch so let’s end it here.”

End on a strong laugh line
The sketch just ends on a good line. It doesn’t twist again or do something unexpected, it just stops on a particularly funny line.

It was all a trick…
The situation is revealed to have been some sort of practical joke or trick. This can be used as a false dawn too.

Victory
One of the characters wins the dispute or gets their own way. Needs to be done in an unexpected way. Can be effective if the victim of the scene suddenly turns the tables.

Violence
One character hits, attacks, shoots, kills etc the other. Fry & Laurie did lots of these and Python did a few too.

Natural end
The scenes just end naturally, on a dramatically right note.

Full-circle
The sketch finishes as it begun with no progress having been made.

Mix into the next item
As I said at the outset, the Python’s (and Spike Milligan’s) solution to the problem of ending sketches. They don’t end, they just flow in to the next one.

So there you have it comedy creators. If you found this helpful and want more comedy opportunities, tips and tricks, our weekly newsletter inspires 10,000+ comedy creators every Monday. Receive it for free here

And hot off the press! Chris Head has just released his latest book Creating Comedy Narratives for Stage and Screen.

Find it on Amazon here

Making “It’s John” – Q&A with Victor Hampson

Continue Reading

Shared Drive – Making an audio sketch show

Continue Reading

The Unhinged Comedy Troupe Headed to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival

Continue Reading

Sperm & Eggs – What I learnt from self-publishing

Continue Reading

The Chorts! 2023 Awards

Continue Reading

I SAW AN OPPORTUNITY VIA THE COMEDY CROWD AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID BOOK

Continue Reading

By Chris Head. My book, “A Director’s Guide to the Art of Stand-up”, begins by exploring ways of identifying and developing your persona as a stand-up comedian. This is your unique voice, outlook and identity that you present on stage. It stems from your actual self but is not identical with your off-stage self.

Finding this persona is key. It’s your on-stage character, a simplified, exaggerated version of yourself. Understanding this character helps you find the angle you’ll take on any given topic and the kind of jokes and material you’ll write for yourself. In effect you have a character you’re writing for. A character based on your actual self.

Finding this persona is the Holy Grail of stand-ups and typically takes hours of stage time to find, but I can offer some insights that can help in the process and might even speed up nailing your on-stage voice. In the first chapter of “A Director’s Guide to the Art of Stand-up” where I discuss persona, I explore status, archetypes, attitudes, likeability, shadow and self-awareness. I’ll introduce these in turn and then, below, is a link where you can read the entire first chapter for FREE (which covers some further angles) so you can start thinking about how to apply all this to your own act.

And in my brand new book “Creating Comedy Narratives for Stage & Screen” I further discuss stand-up persona in the opening chapter, considering positives and negatives and also persona games, both of which I also introduce below along with another link where you can also read this material for FREE. (Alongside stand-up, this new book also covers sketch and sitcom, and discusses improv too).

Let’s now go through these aspects of your stand-up persona in turn.

Status

What is your funniest status? In my model of stand-up’s status you can be:

‘high status’, ‘low status’ or ‘audience’s mate’.

In high status you look down on the problems of the world and your life (or simply on the audience) from a lofty position of insight and wit (eg Chris Rock). In low status you are put upon by the problems of the world and your life (or by the audience and the performance situation) and are struggling with them (eg Lee Evans and Brian Regan). In audience’s mate status you share the problems of the world and of life with the audience, and you laugh at them together. (eg Sarah Millican).

This approach can be finessed by considering a primary and secondary status. Stewart Lee is a high-status comic but, as he says, he is always undermining his status in order to not become objectionable! So he might be looked on as high-status (primary), low-status (secondary). And I identify Brian Regan as low-status above, and certainly when he acts out himself in various situations he plays the fool, but he is a great friend of his audience so perhaps he could more accurately be described as mate-status (primary) and low-status (secondary). And returning to Sarah Millican, there is certainly a strength and at times fierceness to what she does, so I’d see her as s mate-status (primary), high-status (secondary).

You may have some insight into your own status on stage, but even better ask people who know your act well how they see you, and have them reflect it back to you. When you have a clearer understanding of your status, you can more confidently embody it on stage.

Archetypes

In the book, I also discuss how the twelve Jungian archetypes can be keys to your persona. Again, rather than trying to figure out which archetypes you embody on stage, it can be more effective to ask someone else how they see you. They work especially well when used in combination. On p.8 of the first chapter you will find the complete list and an explanation of how they work in stand-up. But here for example are two: sensualist and sage. Bringing them together you get Russell Brand. Finding the two archetypes that you embody – or at a push, three! – can also help define who you are on stage.

Attitude

Next in the book (p.9 – p.11) I consider attitude. Your attitudes are key aspects of your stand-up persona. For example, here’s Al Murray’s Pub Landlord with a typically no-nonsense attitude: “We do not go in for philosophy in this country. We have our own system. It’s called wondering”. (You can find the persona of a stand-up character in the exact same way we are discussing incidentally).

In stand-up, an effective persona will have both positive and negative attitudes. The positive being why we like you and the negative being why we find you funny. Where an act is overwhelmingly negative there is something about their charm, cheek or sheer front that is appealing and enables at least some people to warm to them. At any rate the funny attitudes are the negative ones. There is precious little funny in positive, well-adjusted, reasonable, forgiving and sensible attitudes to things! Once you have the positive and the negative, the light and shade, on your ‘palette’ of attitudes’, it can be effective to jump between them as the Godfather of Alternative Comedy, Tony Allen, describes. (See below for more on positives and negatives).

Self-awareness & Likeability

In the opening persona chapter in my Director’s Guide to Stand-up book, I also consider self-awareness. There are two ends of the spectrum. How aware is the version of you on stage?:

1. Self-aware. Insight into own failings. A high-status or audience mate stance.
2. Totally unaware. Here you see yourself one way, and the audience see you completely differently. Eg, you see yourself as a hit with the opposite sex, the audience see you as a loser. The comedy comes from the gap between how you see yourself and how others see you. A low status stance.

Another aspect of self-awareness is this: is your on-stage character aware that they doing a comedy performance? Or is your character just talking about the world and their life without meaning to be funny? Or even knowing or realising why they are funny? This is a niche area, but can really pay off when you play the weirdness entirely straight (eg Emo Phillips).

I also consider the question of likeability in stand-ups. Stand-ups who have a likeable persona, are flawed with a clear shadow and yet aware of it (high self-awareness) and struggling to be better can be very likeable to an audience (for Brian Regan). These stand-ups care and want to be better but keep tripping themselves up.

If however a stand-up’s persona is comically unaware of their shadow (low self-awareness), then they are more tragically comic and less obviously likeable. Alternatively they can be aware of their shadow (their nastiness or rudeness or aggression) and simply not care. This can work (for instance Frankie Boyle), where the stand-up does behave appallingly BUT does and says the kinds of things we the audience would love to do if we were bold or reckless enough. They are aware of their shadow, don’t care and we love it.

But typically for the audience to laugh they have to like you – even acts that are deliberately nasty are still in fact liked by those who laugh with them. So try and identify what makes you likeable and do more of it. Self-deprecation is one potential route to likeability. Also, identifying your negatives and then balancing them with positives can help and also opens up the opportunity to switch from positive to negative (and vice-versa) which can amplify the laughs.

Positives and negatives

This very week I worked with an act who, despite having been going several years, feels he hasn’t fully developed his persona. On watching videos of his act it struck me that his issue is that he’s too nice! The audience like him and the material is good, but he hasn’t developed the negative side to create a comic friction with his positive qualities. Another way of looking at this is to think in terms of persona and shadow, where the shadow are the negatives that undermine the positives of the persona.

Sitting opposite him, I took the liberty of reading out a list of negative qualities I felt he could develop. (Having softened him up with some positive ones). I’ve compiled a table of 108 negative qualities and 108 positive that you can see for free via the link below to my “Creating Comedy Narratives for Stage & Screen” book.

In a class, I’ll get the group to pick three positives and three negatives for each comic. Then I’ll get them to stand up and share the attitudes that the group identified in them. This in itself generates much hilarity, especially when the qualities ring true for that person. For example:

“I am affectionate, cheerful and tolerant. But I am also arrogant cowering and resentful”.

Once you’ve identified this persona/shadow for your persona, how might you set about exploring it in action? One way is to pick a situation where you were expected to be positive but in fact you were pissed off about it (eg a work situation with clients or a family situation where you were meeting someone new). You then try and talk about it in a positive way to the audience but the negatives keep slipping out and revealing your true feelings.

In the writing of it, get yourself flipping from positive to negative, from persona to shadow, repeatedly. It’s these sudden changes that can make it really funny rather than having one negative attitude throughout.

Persona games

Finally, in my new book “Creating Comedy Narratives for Stage & Screen” I boil all of this down into my concept of persona games. Read all about this for FREE via the link below.

You can read the complete opening chapter about persona from the stand-up perspective in Chris Head’s book “A Director’s Guide to the Art of Stand-up” here:

https://bloomsburycp3.codemantra.com/viewer/5b6331436b2f0700011dd33b

And you can read the first 17 pages of Chris’s new book “Creating Comedy Narratives for Stage & Screen” here which includes the positives and negatives and Chris’ discussion of persona games.

https://bloomsburycp3.codemantra.com/viewer/607d587152faff0001578d16

Buy:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Directors-Guide-Stand-up-Performance-Books/dp/1350035521 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Creating-Comedy-Narratives-Stage-Screen/dp/1350155756

For more info about Chris and the courses he runs:

www.chrishead.com

By Dan Page.

Back to Life is genius.

The acting, the writing, the cinematography, the up-close and personal sound….everything is simply brilliant.  I am in awe of Daisy Haggard, Laura Solon and the whole cast and crew.

But the thing I like most about Back to Life, and arguably why it works so well, is how it breaks a commonly accepted wisdom around the way main characters tend to act and behave.

You see, Miri Matteson doesn’t make bad decisions.

Most, if not all, sitcom plots revolve around an opportunity arising or a problem occurring (the ‘inciting incident’) which the main character(s) subsequently make a series of questionable (if not downright awful) decisions about in their attempt to gain glory or avoid disaster, along the way reaping the (often negative) consequences of their choices. And it’s usually a bumpy ride, with each character suffering along the way.

Really? Is that true? I’d argue self evidently so.

If in each Only Fools episode Del Boy saw an opportunity to make a quick buck then made a really good decision which resulted in him getting the money, before deciding to put it safely in the bank rather than wasting it on a hare-brained scheme, then by episode 12 he’d be a millionaire and the show would be over.  Equally if any of the characters in Friends stopped telling increasingly bigger lies that spin out of control (arguably the plot of most episodes), then the show wouldn’t have been half as fun.

And these decisions often come about because of the character’s main flaw. The thing that prevents them from ever really reaching their goal. Lister’s laziness means he’ll never become a better person, Fleabag’s selfish anxiety means she’ll always struggle with relationships, and Sheldon’s lack of empathy means he’ll never become as well respected as Einstein.

But in Back to Life, arguably the only bad decision Miri Matteson makes is cutting her fringe badly.  EVERYTHING else she does makes sense in the context of her mission to make sense of her life and the world she finds before her.  Equally Miri doesn’t really have an obvious flaw.  In fact, she’s tremendously likeable, pragmatic and sensible and does a pretty good job of saying and doing sensible things.  

Yet despite all this, Miri Matteson suffers EACH and EVERY episode.  

So why is this? Why does a genuine, well-intentioned, sensible, clear-thinking character suffer? And how do writers Daisy Haggard and Laura Solon pull off this trick?

Four reasons:

1. Every other character (bar one) thinks that Miri is a bad person who does bad things. They’d already made up their mind. So it doesn’t matter what Miri says or does – they simply won’t believe her (even her parents struggle with this).  Which means it doesn’t matter if she is flawed or not – everyone else believes she is.

2. Every other character (bar one), does make bad decisions driven by their flaws.  Her selfish mother can’t stop her affair with Miri’s sex-mad (and now married) ex-boyfriend Dom.  Her obsessive compulsive dad focuses on rituals and rules in order to avoid facing up to reality, naive businessman Nathan can’t even run a fish and chip shop in a seaside town (and hires the most hated woman there to work in it) and best friend Mandy lies to herself and everyone else to deflect from her past.  And the consequences of THEIR actions are affecting everyone else, especially Miri.

3. Within this ‘mad’ world there are two ‘sane’ characters – Miri herself and next door neighbour Billy. By giving us two rational people trying to do sensible things for the right reasons in amongst a town’s worth of flawed fools, the writers generate both difference and heart. The former being the engine room of comedy, the latter of likeability. And both of which combine to give pathos. Crucially though, even though Miri discovers Billy to be an island of solace in a sea of hate, her relationship with him is still complicated and painful.

4. Arguably the biggest reason why Miri suffers every episode is because she did make ONE very bad decision in the past. And it’s the consequences of this decision that constantly (and indeed will forever) spill over into her life. So perhaps Miri is, after all, a classically flawed sitcom character, with all her bad decisions rolled into one.

And yet to argue this last point would, in my opinion, itself be flawed.  

For it’s revealed over time that Miri’s ‘poor’ decision in the past was (spoiler alert) both not of her own making and not in itself a bad decision.  You and I would probably do the same in the situation she faced. To emphasise this, Miri finds herself put under pressure in another situation that results in a similar outcome.  And yet once again, her actions are honest and not ill-willed, but an understandable decision when backed into a corner, as opposed to some inherent flaw-driven reaction that singles her out from anyone else.

So the way I see it, Miri Matteson doesn’t make bad decisions. And in virtually any other sitcom this would be a bad decision. But here it’s…well…genius.

Dan Page is a writer, script-editor and Chief Egg at Why Did The Chicken? where he offers professional script-notes, 1-2-1 mentoring and original, talent led content. Say hello via dan@whydidthechicken.com.

His new show The DesignSpark Podcast explores the comedy past, present and future of some of the hottest topics in tech. Episode 1 launches May 20th on iTunes, Podbean and Spotify.

By Stevie Cooke.

I’m the first to admit, I’m a submissions junkie. If you’re anything like me, you’ll spend your time trawling through the internet finding any open opportunities that might be suitable for your work. Or not – sometimes I’m not fussy, I’ll enter anything just to get that submissions high…

A few years back, while endlessly searching for hits, I started to notice that theatre had loads more open opportunities than TV, film or radio. And specifically loads of things called scratch. I know right, what the hell is scratch theatre?

Well it turns out, it’s not theatre for the itchy, but an odd name for a great kind of theatre that all writers should get involved with.

The basic format of a scratch theatre piece is it’s around ten minutes long, no set, minimal props and a small cast of two or three – so you can see why it lends itself to comedy. On the night, the actors will have rehearsed for a few hours before with a director and will be reading from a script. A scratch night usually showcases around eight to ten short plays in an evening. The idea of scratch is that it’s a sounding ground for new material, a chance to see work on its legs in front of a real audience.

So one day, while I was trawling, I decided to submit a surreal comedy two-hander to a scratch night, and for the first time ever, I saw my writing performed. And that was it. I was hooked.

Page To Stage – the scratch night where I first saw my work live (21st April 2016)

As a writer who feels instantly nauseated at the idea of performing, it can be hard to find ways to get your work in front of people. Through scratch I learned so much that I couldn’t learn from the page – like which jokes land well, how many words an actor can get out before needing a breath (not as many as you can type), and the places where people laugh accidentally (it was a serious moment guys!).

But scratch nights are also one of the best ways to discover actors and directors who get your work and can help bring it alive. I am still working with an actor who performed in that first scratch piece all these years later.

After doing the rounds for a bit, I decided to take the plunge and see what it would be like to put on a scratch night myself. It was hard work, but also a hell of a lot of fun. All you need is a room above a pub, scripts, actors, directors and most importantly, some friends who will come along to help you drink enough on the evening so the room above the pub is free. And there you have yourself a scratch night.

One of the great things about putting on a scratch night yourself is it allows you access to opportunities where there might not be so many, and the control of putting on your own work. Although that said, scratch night opportunities come up frequently in all big cities – they’re not just for us Londoners. Now you know what they are, you’ll start seeing them everywhere.

But the inevitable cost of putting on a scratch night is that your ego will get thirsty and you’ll need a bigger hit. Hence why myself and another scratch devotee thought it would be a good idea to move onto writing and producing our own full length show. It’s not easy, but we’re proof that you can prise open doors to the industry yourself. All you need is endless positivity and enthusiasm to see you through. And friends to turn up to see your shows.

So, ahem, self-promotion warning – if you fancy coming along and seeing our full-length production that celebrates the last 100 Years of women’s rights, that started from the humble beginnings of scratch, we’d love to see you there. And not just because we need to put a lot of money behind the bar…

By Stevie Cooke – @steviecooke1985

100 Years – Monday 3^rd December, Southwark Playhouse, London.

Three thirty-minute plays come together to create a unique evening of theatre that explores the last century of women’s rights. Stevie’s piece ‘The Flour Girls’ is a surreal comedy that looks at the night in 1970 when British feminists flour-bombed the Miss World contest – from the perspective of two bags of flour…

Tickets: https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/events/100-years/

Sounds like the dream right? Brooke, Caitlin, Carrie and Fiona make up Belladonna Comedy. They run their own popular satire website and are shortly releasing their first book “New Erotica for Feminists”.

We had the pleasure of catching up with them and finding out how they did it. There’s some great advice in here for new creators, and their story is a brilliant example of using modern media creatively to break into comedy. Here’s the Q&A:

So how did The Belladonna get started and what’s it all about?

The Belladonna is a satire site (www.thebelladonnacomedy.com) we launched in February 2017, “by women and non-binary authors, for everyone.”

We were each part of a private Facebook group for female comedy writers, and there was increasing discussion about how there seemed to be a dearth of reputable satire sites that accepted outside submissions from contributors (this was around the time The Toast, National Lampoon and The Onion’s celebrity gossip site StarWipe stopped publishing, and Reductress stopped accepting outside pitches in favour of sourcing new writers by seasonal packets), and even fewer that celebrated or nurtured women’s talents and voices.

A number of members in that group mentioned they’d stopped writing comedy entirely, because their early efforts had been met with unnecessarily cliquish or exclusionary behavior, or negative feedback, or no feedback at all. Other members had occasionally piped in to suggest that women from that group should start their own publication, but no one had taken the reins.

Then in November 2016, Carrie Wittmer posted “I want to start a website, who wants to start one?” Fellow writers Caitlin Kunkel and Fiona Taylor responded with interest, an email chain was started, and Caitlin brought in Brooke Preston (who Caitlin knew and had previously taught) to complete the team.

We set to work immediately, setting up the site’s infrastructure and branding (by illustrator extraordinaire Marlowe Dobbe: http://marlowe.dobbe.com/) and building an initial handful of trusted contributors, before launching in February 2017. We’ve been steadily growing and publishing since (and performing, having created Belladonna Variety Hours all around the Eastern US) to our current fanbase of roughly 35,000 worldwide.

Why did you choose to host it on Medium?

Medium provided us a free and relatively unencumbered way to manage an independently branded site, with many contributors, with next to no start-up costs. We paid for our domain name (which points back to the Medium site for now), our brand suite, and a few other modest (and optional) costs, but Medium allowed us to hit the ground running. There’s also no coding required, it’s all relatively simple on the front and back end, with a wide range of metrics to gauge a piece’s success.

That said, we’ve always considered this just our first home rather than our permanent home–we’re working toward migrating to our own site where we can accept ads and not be at the mercy of Medium’s often shifting business model.

What is the biggest challenge you’ve experienced running The Belladonna?

Like most satire editors we know, we each have another other day job or five. We haven’t yet monetized the site (though it’s something we’re always discussing and planning for) or moved from Medium, so none of us makes a dime from the site just yet. We also put the lion’s share of income from our events back into the site’s expenses at this stage. So we’re carving out time from our already busy work and life (and now book!) schedules to make this happen, because it’s something we feel extremely passionate about, and also we possess insatiable cravings for debt and insomnia.

What positive impacts has it had?

The very best part of creating The Belladonna has been the chance to give a platform to so many wildly talented writers, at all stages of their careers, from so many backgrounds. To date, we’ve published well over 200 writers on the site–ranging from some of satire’s top names like Riane Konc (The New Yorker) and Kimberly Harrington (author of Amateur Hour) to many who earned their first-ever byline with us. We also provide a private Facebook group where writers published on our site can share bylines, opportunities, meetups, feedback requests and encouragement with one another, a newsletter to anyone who pitches us full of resources and advice, and constructive feedback on every submission.

We regularly get emails from submitters who write to thank us for sending them the nicest rejection letters they’ve ever received, which spurred them to keep going. We don’t sugarcoat the truth, but we believe in kindness, tact and helping women and non-binary writers, and seeing a writer feel empowered and strengthened even in a rejection from us makes us proud of what we’re building together. Each rejection from us should be a step toward writing your next great piece.

What is the landscape looking like at the moment for online comedy writing?

Well, it’s 2018 in America, so we’re all sort of figuring out the best way to parody the never-ending dumpster fire in which we’re now forced to live our daily lives. (I believe you call those “skip fires” in the UK). Beyond that, we’ve been encouraged to see a number of great, mutually supportive satire publications on the rise, like Weekly Humorist, Points in Case, Little Old Lady Comedy, Slackjaw, Flexx Mag, RAZED, WhoHaHa and many others. And iconic old guard sites like McSweeney’s are seeing record traffic and reaching long-time monetization goals.

We’re also seeing a wider swath of non-satire publications open to running online satire pieces, from Real Simple to Parents to Men’s Health. (Plus, those places tend to pay!). Two of us (Caitlin Kunkel, who created the program, and Brooke Preston) teach satire writing on the faculty of the famed Second City, where full class sections of eager students try their hand at satire each month. So the talented writers are there, and the audience is there, and good God, the satirical targets are there, but there’s still a lot of question marks in terms of the best way to monetize and sustain a site long-term in a way that can pay staff and contributors alike.

So your book is “New Erotica for Feminists.” Got to ask, why did you choose to write about this topic?

It’s something closer to ‘the topic chose us.’ We were deep in daydream schemes about how to potentially monetize The Belladonna (a frequent topic of conversation for us), cheekily dreaming about having our favorite flavored sparkling water company (LaCroix–wildly popular in the US, a real cult following) somehow just foot the bill for everything and send us truck (lorry) upon lorry of the stuff. And why not have, say, Tom Hardy make those deliveries? Is that not how corporate sponsorship works? Perhaps we don’t understand commerce after all. One of us said (in jest) ‘you know, that’s our million dollar idea–that sounds like erotica the women of New York would pay good money for’. We decided then and there to write a comedy piece in that vein–what would erotica for feminist women look like–and it flowed out of us so quickly and naturally as we realized all the ways actual romance and porn tropes are in service to traditionally cisgender male desires and urges, and the women are largely there as objects to be had rather than protagonists.

Which groups of people are the biggest fans of the content and do you engage with them directly?

We like to say the book is for “feminists and those who love them” (who should ideally also then be feminists). We’ve had a number of men pick up the book with a comment like “I know I’m not the target audience for this” but once they read it, they totally get what we’re trying to do, and find it just as funny as the women do. If you believe women should have equal rights and enjoy comedy, you’re our target demographic.

That said, a number of Americans have committed to mailing a copy to their mean old Republican Senators as a kind of troll move, an unorthodox application of the book we nonetheless deeply support.

What did the book publishers want to see when they approached you and how was the process of securing the deal?

We were incredibly fortunate in that our UK publisher first approached us after reading the McSweeney’s piece. We had about a week’s worth of conversations and then a deal was struck. We realize how very privileged we are and how rarely that happens.

The US side of things was slightly more involved, as we had to shop ourselves around to try and land a parallel deal for the same book, ideally on the same timeline. First off, publishers wanted to see an idea that a lot of people had already connected to. So we had that part down with the mega-viral success of the original McSweeney’s piece – we had developed a premise that we felt we could write endless jokes on, and we had social proof that people connected to it. They also wanted to see some evidence of platform or reach, to show we had enough of a following to make noise around the launch and compel people to buy books. Between The Belladonna, McSweeney’s (in which the original article appeared) and The Second City where Brooke and Caitlin teach, we met that threshold. It’s important to think of platform not only as one’s own site or blog but also all the tangentially related people and places who are guaranteed to get involved in promoting your book. So if you work for a BBC show that you know would help you promote your book, or help organize a comedy festival with a large social footprint, even if it isn’t directly related, publishers might include those as part of your platform.

In addition to that, they also wanted to see a (mini–still nearly 80 pages!) book proposal. That’s a document that lays out a LOT of information, like how we would expand the original sub-1,000 word piece into a 12,000 word book, comparable titles and how they sold, our platform collectively on The Belladonna and individually, and our thoughts on who the audience for the book was, advance blurbs and more.

Our shorthand for who should buy it is “feminists and those who love them.” Basically, if you believe that there are inherent inequalities in society that need to be addressed, and you want to both laugh and fume at the same time, we highly recommend this book. We think the jokes and situations we satirize will be familiar to a lot of people, whether the twist is having a doctor finally believe your pain, or a version of the Genesis story where Eve doesn’t listen to a talking snake, or just that someone breastfeeds in public and no one cares. You know, things that are currently fantasies. In fact, the entire US title for the book is “New Erotica for Feminists: Satirical Fantasies of Love, Lust, and Equal Pay.”

We were fortunate in that there was large interest from US publishers, and in one magical week we met with them all and heard about their vision for the book, the promo, timeline, and how they would reach out to people. We then received bids and our agent helped us to select our final publisher. It happened very quickly – we wrote the piece in February, and by the end of March we had written the proposal sent it out, met with everyone, picked a publisher, and signed out contract. It was heady and surreal but also VERY exhausting, since we were all still working full-time jobs the whole time!

What one tip you would give yourself as an aspiring comedy writer starting out now?

Trust that the opportunities will appear when you are good enough to take full advantage of them. So rather than focusing on getting representation, or someone to send you the SNL packet right after you learn to write a sketch, focus on writing and creating work in a variety of media, and then finding the best way to showcase it.

None of us would have been ready for this book opportunity and the incredibly fast writing and editing schedule if we hadn’t been writing on deadline for years, and editing on our own site for a year and a half at that point. It was the quality of the initial piece that got us meetings, but the professionalism of our proposal and presence in those meetings (as well as the years of work we’d put into building strong personal and collective portfolios and platforms of work) that led to our deals.

This takes the pressure off younger writers, because all they have to do is to focus on writing the best work they can, consistently, rather than focusing on excessive networking and the opportunities other writers seem to be getting.

Also, do everything you can to lift up other talented writers and performers. Adopt a “community, not competition” mindset. When your friends are successful, they’re likely to hire their trusted friends. And when you’re successful, you’ll need trusted collaborators to make your vision reality and to help enthusiastically spread the word about it.

Start now by helping people without asking for anything in return, building relationships and making yourself known as a great, reliable collaborator.

Where can people find your book?

In the UK: Waterstones, Amazon, Apple Books, Sceptre’s website, independent booksellers and (in theory at least) everywhere books are sold. Ask your local bookseller to carry it!

In the US: Amazon, Apple Books, Penguin Random House’s website, Walmart.com (online for certain, in-store tbd), and a wide range of independent bookstores, including, Powell’s Books, Women and Children First, Politics & Prose, Books and Books, The Book Loft, Little Professor Book Center, The Ripped Bodice and more.

Brooke Preston, Caitlin Kunkel, Carrie Wittmer, Fiona Taylor are the Founders and Editors of The Belladonna and authors of the satire book “New Erotica for Feminists“, out Nov. 15 in the UK and Australia on Sceptre (Hodder & Stoughton) and Nov. 13 in the US on Plume (Penguin Random House).

By Jon Holmes.

In 2017 comedian Hari Kondabolu created the documentary “The Problem With Apu“. It was a made-for-TV doc that addressed the racial incoherence of a fictional character: Apu Nahasapeemapetilon.

While I don’t claim to be of any sort of minority, I certainly always admired The Simpsons and still to this day will cite the show as my comedy upbringing… Although I haven’t seen the show for many years now I never personally believed there was an issue with Apu. In fact, rather I saw him as a character that was there to educate viewers in amongst a town full of clowns (and not to mention, numerous other stereotypes).

This was a character who in my time watching the programme had helped me to understand immigration, veganism, and arranged marriages – topics only whispered in the early 90/00s, which all seem more topical than ever right now. I would go in to watching The Problem With Apu with a feeling of “Did This Really Need to Get Made?” – I certainly recognised the issues that a character like Apu will bring and understood why people would find them triggering, but my dilemma came from me actually rather liking the learned father and business owner, and I couldn’t help but think that other, more deserving shows could be accused of misusing minorities for the sake of a cheap gag (The Big Bang Theory for one).

With that being said, The Problem with Apu made a huge splash: Everyone was talking about it: The Simpsons unofficially responded to the issue with an off the cuff visual gag that no-one would enjoy; Apu voice actor, Hank Azaria would go on to discuss it on Colbert, and Matt Groening released this half-assed statement.

“The Simpsons is sick and this contest is crowdsourcing the cure.”

Rather like Comic Book Guy exclaiming “Worst. Episode. Ever”, regularly I will go on to Twitter to vent about how poor and unimportant I believe current day Simpsons is – a mere ghost of its former self that diminishes its own legacy with each new and unfunny season. A show that refuses to die: A boxer that just won’t retire, a programme with food on its face that everyone else laughs at – and no longer with. Shankar was right. The Simpsons was sick. But this sickness would take the form of common old age.

No, I didn’t approach this as a man offended by a character; but rather a former fan, disgruntled by the show’s serious lack of care in handling a scenario like this, the tornado of outrage that had come from this 30 minute film and the show responding to it in such a blasé way was what drove me to writing my script.

It had reminded me of what a pathetic yellow bellied (- that was intentional) animal The Simpsons really is these days. Before I had ignored the show for its lack of relevance but now in the limelight due to angered fans with a voice, rather than deal with the issue in a jovial and satirical way like they used to on a weekly basis, the show instead surrounded itself with yet another shitty joke that bit in to the honeydew of nostalgia – and was met only by chirping crickets.

I went in to this particular script competition with a dogged determination to get the “voice” of the character, and to give him a fitting and just ending. One that a show that has been on the air for longer than I have been alive would be proud of. An ending that would easily slot in to the lore of The Simpsons, whilst being respectful to the people who the character had hurt.

My first steps were rewatching all of the main Apu episodes. I made up a small list on the back of a notepad that I had stolen from a previous job, which I’m sure read something like a haiku from a serial killer:

JAMES WOODS

APU GETS MARRIED

22 SHORTS ABOUT SPRINGFIELD

EIGHT BABIES

VALENTINES DAY

PAUL MCCARTNEY

This helped refresh the character in my head again (and hey, gave me an excuse to watch golden age episodes and claim they were “research”).

I always knew that I didn’t want to physically kill the character – it seemed (ironically) disrespectful, somehow. I, as a previous fan, felt the character deserved more of a send-off than being squashed by an anvil. No, I knew that in my script, Apu would simply leave the town behind. Springfield and Apu were both far different entities than when they had begun. The two had evolved, and outgrown each other. I knew that I would have to incorporate that in there, and really try to hit the bittersweet beats of the character never being seen again.

As a white, straight man from Bristol, during the blocked times, struggling to figure out what to do with the next scene, I would regularly have second-thoughts where I would question even if I was the correct kind of person to write a piece of this subject material. Eventually coming to the conclusion that anyone should be writing a story like this; providing it was dealt with in a respectful and, more importantly, hysterical way. It didn’t matter where the voice was originally coming from, as long as it was good.

I knew that this was a personal story for me as such a big fan, and I had to approach it from that angle. I knew that as I put that final full stop, it was the last I would ever see of the character, having in my mind, written the last line of dialog that Apu would ever say. I knew from that moment that I’d also retired The Simpsons in its entirety for myself as well.

I sent the script and didn’t think much of it. This was a worldwide callout, and just writing for an already existing show was a cool experience in itself.

Eventually I received an email telling me that I had been shortlisted as a finalist – of two hundred scripts, my piece, titled “Who Really Needs The Kwik-E-Mart?” had made it to the top 15%.

Months passed… I waited, and worked on other projects… the deadline would be pushed back… and then finally last week I received an email from the competition organisers telling me that I hadn’t gotten it. Gradually, as time passed, it began to hurt the more that I thought about it – but this is just how competitions work. I have no regret or bitterness towards the winner, and offer them my congratulations with their success. I know that Mr Shankar is going to make something really damn special – something that I anticipate just like I would have done with any other new episodes in The Simpsons’ glory days.

ComedyWire has been kind enough to let me attach the spec script that I sent to the competition below, which can be read on here for free.

Jon Holmes

By Chris Head

I coach and direct stand-up and am the author of “A Director’s Guide to the Art of Stand-up”. Meanwhile I have an annual gig working with undergraduates at Bath Spa University to develop a multi-cam studio sitcom, I coach writers and I am about to script-edit a BBC Radio 4 sitcom pilot. One thing that looms large in all this work on sitcom is plotting which I discuss in this piece looking at the ‘set-pieces’ method.

I also deliver coaching and script/pitch consultations with former BBC commissioner/ head of comedy at Sky and now TV producer Lucy Lumsden. We have an online course coming up on creating, writing and pitching sitcom where we’ll work on your characters, situation, plotting and your pitch. More info here).

Qualities of a good plot

I always think that a good sitcom plot has some or all of these qualities:

– A clear goal for the central character and obstacles that stop them achieving it

– bad decisions

– a plot that escalates with every scene upping the ante

– dramatic irony (where the audience know things character(s) don’t)

– lies and secrets

– misunderstandings

– a false dawn (it seems like everything is sorted… then it isn’t)

– a winner / a loser

This is a good check list as you work through your own developing plot. How many of these does your plot feature? Taking a step back, how might you build a plot in the first place?

One approach is simply to give your characters a plausible problem and then the comedy comes from the dysfunctional way they set about dealing with it. (For instance there is a dead body in the hotel that needs removing sensitively). Or you might think of the biggest embarrassment or disaster and work backwards from that climactic point to the start (Peep Show writers Bains & Armstrong were geniuses at this approach.) Or, as Graham Linehan is wont to do, you might plot around set-pieces.

Plotting using set-pieces

Set-pieces are the big funny scenes that the narrative revolves around. In this method of plotting you set about writing as many of these set-pieces as you can think of. It’s essentially like writing a series of sketches for your characters. David Renwick made good use of this approach in plotting One Foot in the Grave. Think about scenes like Victor going to buy some second-hand shoes and discovering they’re still on the feet of the deceased former owner. Or Victor discovering the dog he has been preparing to adopt is in fact dead and stuffed. These are essentially sketches.

Once you have your set-piece scenes, you can then pick one and think about how it might form part of a wider narrative. To illustrate this, here is a set-piece scene from a notional sitcom that I have written for illustration (using my model of how scenes and sketches unfold):

SET-UP: Middle-aged, theatrical Sadie is confirming an appointment on the phone to have her nails done. As she hangs up her daughter Mel enters. (Note the dramatic irony – we know about the nail appointment but Mel doesn’t). Mel asks if Sadie can stay at home and wait for the new fridge to be delivered as she needs to go out and meet a possible investor for her business idea.

REVEAL: Sadie says no because she has an important appointment herself and anyway only Mel is capable of making sure the fridge is the right model and that it has come with all the parts.

ESCALATION: Mel argues that surely Sadie would be capable. She offers to show her the specification of the fridge and all the questions to ask. Sadie plays dumb and struggles with the simple information. In the end Mel gives up and says she’ll stay at home and will rearrange the meeting.

PAYOFF: Sadie’s friend Trudy comes in to take her to the nail place. Mel is aghast at how she’s been manipulated and how her mother’s nails take precedence over her business idea.

This is a set-piece scene. So I have established in this scene that mother and daughter live together. We know that Mel has a business idea, so let’s say Mel is living at home to save money while she attempts to get a business idea off the ground. The only problem being that her self-obsessed mother keeps ruining things for her. In this way I am discovering more about the situation by writing scenes.

Now we have this set-piece we can think about what happens before and after it. For instance, here I have written outlines of scenes to take place either side of the set-piece.

BEFORE

Scene 1: Mel is having breakfast, looking at messages on her phone. Sadie enters. Mel starts telling Sadie that she has been messaged by a possible investor for her new business idea. Sadie retorts that anyone would be mad to invest in her idea; who needs an app to tell them how long they’ve cleaned their teeth for? Mel (for the umpeenth time) starts explaining how it’ll improve dental hygiene and how it’s part of the ‘gamification’ of life, when Sadie freaks out because the fridge is broken. She simply cannot have warm orange juice at breakfast time!

SET-PIECE

Scene 2: The set-piece described above where Sadie gets her daughter to stay in to receive the new fridge (thus missing the meeting with her potential investor) while she, Sadie, has her nails done.

AFTER

Scene 3: Mel is on the phone to the investor. It’s clearly a delicate matter to reschedule the meeting. She’s only in the country for two days and wants to meet face-to-face. Then the doorbell rings and Mel has to open the door to the fridge delivery guy. As per Sadie’s instructions Mel has to unpack the fridge and check the contents of the package; much to the annoyance of the delivery man who has a tight schedule. This also makes the discussion with the investor more complicated as Mel tries to juggle the two things. Mel discovers one of the shelves seems to be missing and starts to check the rest of the (massive amount of) packaging. She hands the phone to the delivery guy and he and the investor end up having a nice chat about fridge models.

Notice here that we’re figuring out the plotting first. Actually writing the scenes will be the next stage and is much more effective and efficient with this scaffolding in place.

Plot lines

Notice how in the above we also have two plot lines: the A plot and the B plot. The A plot is the main story and takes the lion’s share of the screen time (in this case Mel chasing an investor). The B plot is a secondary strand that has less screen time and unfolds alongside the A plot (the fridge situation). Here there also seems to be the beginnings of a C plot which I might develop; namely the mother getting her nails done. So this is how our plot is breaking down:

A PLOT – Mel’s teeth cleaning app business idea and the courting of an investor

B PLOT – the fridge

C PLOT – Sadie’s nails

Classically in sitcom plotting, the plot lines collide at the end of the episode. With this in mind I’m already starting to wonder how these threads collide. Having set up that the investor – let’s call her Stephanie – has an interest in fridges, maybe in the final scene Mel and her at last meet – in Sadie and Mel’s home – and just when the meeting about the app seems to be going well, Sadie breezes in and starts going on about how wonderful the fridge is. Stephanie’s interest switches. Sadie explains it’s a new company with an innovative design. Stephanie says she has thought of investing in fridges – hence her earlier interest. She thanks Sadie and decides to invest in a fridge start up instead of in Mel’s app.

This feels like a good finish. I now need to answer the question: why does the meeting have to happen at home? One answer could that yet again Sadie has forced Mel to stay in for some reason and so this time (thinking she has at last got round this issue), Mel invites the investor to their home. This is a false dawn. Mel thinks she has at last solved the problem of meeting the investor but as we’re about to discover it’s all going to go wrong for her.

But why is the mother so uncaring about the development of her business? Does she simply dislike her daughter? Or – in a reverse of the usual sitcom trope of the parent trying to get rid of the adult child – is she sabotaging her to keep her around? Why does she need her around? It’s in asking and answering these kinds of questions that more scenes will suggest themselves as this plot and this sitcom evolve.

Working on (or wanting to work on) a TV sitcom script? Chris is working with TV producer, former BBC Comedy Commissioner/ Head of Comedy at Sky Lucy Lumsden. Together they’re leading an online course on the art, craft and business of TV sitcom. Great writing coaching, script development and invaluable horse’s mouth industry insights:

https://www.chrishead.com/events/the-art-craft-business-of-tv-sitcom-with-chris-head-lucy-lumsden-3

And you can read chapter 1 of Chris’s stand-up book for free here:

https://bloomsburycp3.codemantra.com/viewer/5b6331436b2f0700011dd33b

Or buy your own copy of the book here:

A Director’s Guide to the Art of Stand-Up

By Chris Head. So you want to create a comedy character. Perhaps it’s a character for you to perform or for a sitcom/comedy drama script. In this blog I am particularly thinking of narrative comedy script characters, but these thoughts can be equally useful for sketch characters and so on. Here are some ways you can explore and develop your characters to make them as rich and comedic as possible.

Base your characters on real people

Characters are fleshed out and made individual by drawing on the qualities of real people you know or have encountered. Whether they’re neighbours, bosses, colleagues, friends, family members or even spouses, real life offers up an abundance of eccentric and dysfunctional people who can become comedy characters. When you have a real model behind the character they become more individual, believable and idiosyncratic.

You might base a character on someone close to you, your nearest and dearest, however, if you’re basing a character on someone you know less well, or even have only seen fleetingly, there’s a lot you don’t know and you are fee to invent to fill in the gaps. If you don’t have a real-life model (or models) in mind you are more likely to draw on stereotype and cliché.

You can draw on a number of real people to flesh out your character picking up on their mannerisms, speech patterns, attitudes, beliefs as well as their biography and life experience. Since you’re fictionalizing, do feel free to do them a terrible disservice and focus on and exaggerate all their worst qualities. And in terms of their biography, if they’ve done three really stupid things in the last five years, your character version of them will have done those three stupid things in the last three weeks – of if they’re a real klutz, in the last three days. Then once you have identified the kinds of stupid things the real person does, you can invent more in a similar vein for your character.

Positives and negatives

Let’s think about basing a character on a bad boss you have had in your working life. Maybe you have one now! It can be brilliantly cathartic to take these dreadful people and turn them into comedy characters. Your characters have a problem or a goal and they set about trying to get what they want with their limited skill set. They don’t have the skills, knowledge or ability to effectively achieve their goals, but still they try. (Just like your bad boss). A first question to ask of your boss is: What’s wrong with them?

This will be where the comedy lies. All their negative qualities, failings and shortcomings. Have a clear, short list of these issues. This is enough to get started. A next step to ask is: Who else do I know who’s like this? Now you are drawing on bad qualities of other people to make this character even worse.

Then having considered your boss’ negative sides ask: What’s right with them? If you really despise them or find them totally contemptible, this can be tricky! They must have some positive qualities. What are they? A balance of positives and negatives makes the character more rounded and engaging – even if the negatives are likely to dominate with many characters, that bit of humanity is important. For instance with Basil Fawlty (who was based on a Mr Sinclair who ran the Gleneagles Hotel in Torquay with his terrifying wife):

Basil Fawlty

Negatives: Petty, vindictive, snobbish

Positives: Witty, resourceful, intelligent

We so enjoy the comedy of his negative qualities it’s easy to overlook the positives but they are there. Sybil loved him once! Like Basil, your character might also use their positives to negative ends. For example, Basil’s biting wit is often deployed at the expense of the guests he should be deferential to. His resourcefulness meanwhile, which could be employed in improving the hotel, ends up being channelled into managing the increasingly absurd situations he creates.

Note that it’s absurd situations that he creates. I see a lot of early drafts of scripts and a common shortcoming is that stuff just happens to the characters. As a rule, it’s so much stronger when the comedy comes from characters making bad decisions, or making bold decisions they are ill equipped to deal with the fallout from. For example, in the pilot of Friends, Rachel walks out on her wedding rather than being left at the altar by the groom.

With positive and negative sides, the negatives will be why we find them funny but the positives will be why we warm to them nevertheless. A dialogue exercise you can try is to start an interaction with another character in one of their positives and the flip to one of the negatives. In the opening minutes of Friends, Joey says to Ross (in response to hearing about his painful breakup):

Joey: Alright Ross, look. You’re feeling a lot of pain right now. You’re angry. You’re hurting. Can I tell you what the answer is?

(Ross gestures his consent.)

Joey: Strip joint! C’mon, you’re single! Have some hormones!

Here we see Joey start off in an empathic, caring tone… before he flips to being crude. This is a key part of finding funny moments in dialogue. The first sentence misdirects as to where he is going and the second sentence flips our expectation. And it’s a flip from positive to negative. Here’s a made up example from a teacher character speaking to a student: “I see you’ve produced your homework on time which I appreciate. Just a shame it looks like it was written by a monkey”.

You can do this selfsame process of exploring the negatives and positives with a difficult or ridiculous friend, relative or co-worker. Or a relative, spouse or sibling. Or even… yourself. Yes you can become a character in your own narrative. To help come up with positives and negatives, I have produced a table for 108 positive qualities and 108 negative that is on p.5 – 6 of my ‘Creating Comedy Narratives For Stage & Screen‘ book.

Two perspectives on your characters

Here’s another way of looking at your character from two perspectives: firstly, describe how they see themselves and secondly how others see them. If there is very little difference between these two perspectives then that would be a self-aware, functional person. The bigger the difference the more comic and/or tragic the character. Steve Coogan’s appallingly brilliant Alan Partridge, for example, was based on a number of real-life British TV presenters. Many potential models for Partridge have been identified but (fortunately) there isn’t one single person who embodies all of Partridge’s traits, so it’s very much an amalgamation of different individuals and Coogan says there is a lot of himself in Partridge too. Here’s how you might describe Alan Partridge in this way:

How Alan Partridge sees himself: Charming, funny, relaxed, professional, friendly, popular

How others see him: Petty, vindictive, neurotic, incompetent, loathsome, moribund

When you’re developing a character, think in terms of the first list as how they see themselves when they’re at their most self-regarding and the second list as how others see them when they are most critical. This creates a persona and a shadow. List 1 is the persona they try and project, list 2 is the shadow that undermines and contradicts the persona. Think about THE GAP between how characters see themselves and how others see them – the bigger the gap, the greater the comedy (and tragedy) of the character.

Here’s an example from Alan Partridge where he flips from positive to negative as Joey does above:

“I’d just like to fly a helicopter all around Norfolk. You know, swoop down over a field….” So far it sounds like a love of the landscape and natural beauty… but then it flips: “Scare a donkey so that it falls into a river. Hover over one of those annoying families that go on holidays on bikes. And shout at them “get out of the area!” and watch them panic!”

To explore this in action, try writing a scene where the character is trying to embody a quality or qualities from the first list while their efforts are undermined by qualities from the second list. In order for this to happen, think about a situation that will bring out their worst sides. Here is an example from Alan Partridge where he is DJ’ing on Radio Norfolk. On the one hand in his DJ role he is wanting to project professionalism and knowledgeable enthusiasm for the music… but he can’t help being petty and judgemental.

“That was ‘Big Yellow Taxi’ by Joni Mitchell, a song in which Joni complains they ‘Paved paradise to put up a parking lot’, a measure which actually would have alleviated traffic congestion on the outskirts of paradise, something which Joni singularly fails to point out, perhaps because it doesn’t quite fit in with her blinkered view of the world. Nevertheless, nice song.”

Likeability of characters

Often writers get feedback that their characters aren’t likeable enough and yet at the same time there are often sitcoms with characters who behave badly and aren’t obviously likeable. And yet so many viewers have an appalled fascination with the truly dark characters, for example Julia Davis with Jill from Nighty Night. Returning to the point made about basing characters on real people, even Julia Davis’s horrific creations are, as she says, based on people. She described Jill as the ultimate extreme narcissist and sociopath, and acknowledges they’re traits she’s interested in and that run through a lot of her characters. She says she does see such people around and continues to be shocked by their behaviour and wants to keep looking at it from a slightly different perspective each time.

You couldn’t however have a cast made up entirely of these extreme types. Imagine if Jill, Basil and Alan Partridge were all in one show! They’d cancel each other out. You need the reasonable and normal people around them for contrast but also to create a way in for the audience. We sympathize with those people. And indeed we need characters who are holding it together.

Developing an ensemble of characters

Once you have one clear character with strongly defined positives and negatives, to create another character – simply make them the polar opposite of the original character. Comedy thrives on opposites. Spontaneous, brave, outrageous Fleabag is paired with a total opposite in her sister Claire who is uptight, cautious and anal. When I was growing up I used to love watching Ever Decreasing Circles where dour, controlling, obsessive Martin is contrasted with his neighbour, the dashing, freewheeling, charming Paul. In fact, all of your characters should be strongly contrasting, with no two characters having the same characteristics.

When putting together your ensemble of characters, it helps to think in terms of BOSSES, STRIVERS, FOOLS and FOILS. I have developed my own Boss/ Striver/ Fool – and foil – model of sitcom characters. It’s a useful way of looking at sitcom when you’re setting up your own group of characters. And it’s a useful model to apply when considering an existing script. Try and identify whose who in the script and see if you’ve got a missing character or if the ensemble is unbalanced.

The BOSS is the one with authority, from whatever source (job role, position, social status, family role). Note that an actual manager or leader in name may not have real authority; usually the authority figures in sitcoms are incompetent or dysfunctional in some way or exercise their authority badly. The STRIVERS are the central characters who want to improve themselves or their situation, they are striving after something. The FOOLS… are self-explanatory. But they needn’t necessarily be stupid (although they often are.) They could be intelligent but still be a fool due to being naive or their social ineptitude.

The main character in your sitcom will be a STRIVER. It is that central striver’s behaviour and attitudes that create comic problems for those around them. They are the comic PROTAGONIST. It is a common strategy to have a FOIL for who is a normal, reasonable person – or at least they are the one who is most affected by the antics of the striver. Often, they are the one the audience can relate to and we see the world through their eyes.

In summary, most successful sitcoms have this dynamic (and some unsuccessful ones lack some element of it):

BOSS – A character in position of power over the striver/ protagonist and others – it may be a role or rank or just social status or family seniority. They may have real power or it may just be vested in them by their position but they are inept in some way.

STRIVER (PROTAGONIST) – The main comic character with all their flaws and failings

FOIL – The more reasonable normal one (usually also a striver) who has to deal with the main striver. Often protagonist and foil are basically on the same side but they can be rivals. Usually the foil is the one the audience can identify with but sometimes they are less obviously likeable.

FOOL – Self-explanatory – the stupid or naive and awkward one. Often happy with their lot, they tend to be able to bounce back from the indignities heaped on them.

Some examples:

There will be other characters in these shows (who will also tend to fall into one of these slots) but here I am focussing on the central ensemble.

Fawlty Towers

BOSS – Sybil (and sometimes a guest like the American man.)

STRIVER/ PROTAGONIST – Basil

FOIL – Polly

FOOL – Manuel (and others – eg the Major)

The (UK) Office

BOSS – Neil Godwin. And Chris Finch; a social status boss who has authority over Brent

STRIVER/ PROTAGONIST – David Brent

FOIL – Tim

FOOL – Gareth (and others – eg Keith)

Blackadder 4

BOSS – General Melchett (and his boss Field Marshall Hague)

STRIVER/ PROTAGONIST – Blackadder

FOIL – Captain Darling (also a rival)

FOOL – Baldrick & George*

One working class/ one upper-middle class. One uneducated/ one educated; but both fools.

Friends

BOSS – Monica

STRIVER 1 – Ross

STRIVER 2 – Rachel

FOOL – Joey/ Phoebe

FOIL – Chandler

Having used this model with many writers and students I have found it to be a very useful framework to consider when planning your own ensemble of sitcom characters and for analysing an existing script where something is not working with your characters. Chapter 8 in my ‘Creating Comedy Narratives’ book explores creating ensembles of characters in this way and I speak with Hollywood comedy guru Steve Kaplan and TV producer and the former Controller of BBC Comedy Commissioning Lucy Lumsden for their insights into putting a group of characters together. Elsewhere, picking up on topics from this blog, chapter 1 is about basing characters on you and your nearest and dearest, and chapter 2 is all about basing characters on people you have encountered in life. Plus in later chapters I go into detail about writing and structuring scenes and sketches and ultimately build up to structuring narratives of 30 minutes and longer. And throughout I draw in stand-up and improvisation too, to make it an inspiring cross genre guide to creating comedy narratives.

For more on creating characters, writing scenes and sketches, constructing plots see Chris Head’s brilliant and unique new book “Creating Comedy Narratives for Stage and Screen”

And Chris runs online courses in sitcom/comedy drama, sketch and stand-up.

www.chrishead.com

‘Those Three Girls’ are a comedy writing/performing trio who won the 2013 Sitcom Mission with their Sitcom, ‘Girlband’, which follows the fans of a 90’s pop band (check out the trailer). We asked them to put together a short video to explain how they took ‘Girlband’ from script to pilot.

Girlband is being screened at The Crystal Palace International Film Festival on Sun 12th November, 3PM at Stanley Halls, London SE25 6AB. The girls will be doing a Q+A afterwards. Tickets cost £5 and are still available here.

[icegram campaigns=”10694″]

The 9th season of Curb Your Enthusiasm returned to US TV in October with creator and lead performer Larry David continuing his destructive path of political incorrectness.

Curb Your Enthusiasm is clearly a well executed, smart comedy that has achieved sustained success. But what makes the show so unique?

For one thing Larry David plays himself. Albeit an extreme version of himself, freed from the social filter that prevents us from saying and doing exactly what we think.

But the real ground breaking element is the improvisation.

Unlike most major television comedies, Curb Your Enthusiasm is not scripted. Larry David sets up the plot outline before filming. The actors then make up their lines as they go based on the given premise.

Improvisation itself is not new in comedy. Many comic actors train in improv and use these skills to enhance scripts during filming.

But having an entirely improvised show creates challenges as well as the unique execution we see on screen.

Filming and production can take a significantly longer time. How do you know when you have enough material for a coherent scene? Plus there is a natural side effect of not knowing what someone is going to say – it creates spontaneous laughter. Which in turn leads to more takes.

And post production is an even greater challenge. In this article picture editors Steve Rasch and Jonathan Corn explain why this is the case. “Our goal is to make great sentences, not great edits. We make scenes sound natural — as if they were written that way.”

Piecing together different cuts and takes is a technical challenge for editors that can make or break the humour in a show. But in most cases they have a script to follow with pre defined beats identified. In an improvised show the editors are creating content as they piece together the best lines generated by the performers.

But there is a reason for using improvisation despite the additional challenges. It creates a natural effect that is almost impossible to replicate when writers provide lines to actors.

So how can comedy creators make use of improvisation?

Following the Curb approach is an option, but requires real editing and production skill. In addition the Curb actors are all strong comedians in their own right, and know each other very well. If this wasn’t the case then a fully improvised show would be even more challenging to execute.

The value of improvisation comes from the natural lines produced by the actors. One way of embracing this would be to do an improv session with actors while the script is being written, to generate ideas and include lines that the actors are naturally comfortable with.

Don’t be afraid to try something different. Curb Your Enthusiasm achieved success this way, and it is not alone. Other great comedies such as Peep Show (inner monologue) and The Office (mockumentary) used tools that were not fashionable at the time and executed them brilliantly.

If you are looking for inspiration in your comedy show, improv may just be able to help.

[icegram campaigns=”10694″]

The first episode of Friends is widely regarded as one of the greatest openings to a sitcom ever.

4 distinctive characters have lines in quick succession. They respond to one another. And they do so in a way that brings out the biggest flaw, the biggest comedy catalyst, in each of their distinct personalities.

Chandler is the funny one. Joey the stupid one. Phoebe the crazy one. Monica the serious, competitive one.

2 characters are absent. They are introduced as the episode progresses.

Rachel breezes in wearing a wedding dress. She is self absorbed and vulnerable.

And Ross?

He has just been left by his wife Carol, who has announced she is a lesbian.
He is serious and moody. He is an awkward geek. And he is immediately wrapped up in a story that will define him until much later in the series.

He is one half of Ross and Rachel.

These characteristics remained consistent throughout the early seasons. While the characters clearly developed over time, their main comedy traits established in episode 1 were always their biggest sources of humour.

Except for Ross.

Defined inescapably by his relationship with Rachel through unrequited love, jealousy, happiness and back again. He is a bit of a drip, and slightly annoying.

Fast forward to the final episode of Friends. By now Ross has had a near death experience (a car backfired), reclaimed his favourite salmon sweater, been dumped by Janice for being too whiny, judged Mona for not leaving him sooner, had brilliantly white teeth and a startling fake tan, struggled to remove his leather pants when the lotion and the talc formed a paste, danced on the blooper show for Dick Clark’s Rock and Eve, and made a move on his cousin:

Ross VO: “Say something. Anything. This is the longest anyone hasn’t spoken ever”

Ross: “I haven’t had sex in a very long time”

Ross VO: “Yeah you really shouldn’t have said anything”

In short, he became very funny.

So what happened to Ross? How did he become a man who was proud of the nickname “Mental Geller” rather than seeing it as an affront as he surely would have done in early seasons?

The real turning point came in the episode shortly after the collapse of his marriage to Emily.
After a few episodes struggling to hang on to the thread of hope that his marriage could be saved, Ross finally gives up. He is broken.

Well, almost broken.

Ross has one thing left in the world to keep him sane. His turkey sandwich with a moist maker – a layer of gravy soaked bread in the middle of the sandwich.

Unfortunately, a colleague at work eats Ross’ sandwich, despite seeing “a joke, or limerick of some kind” attached, explaining that it was Ross’ sandwich.

To make matters worse, the sandwich was quite large, and most of it was thrown in the trash.

This is the breaking point for Ross. It’s also the turning point that he doesn’t look back from.

David Schwimmer plays this episode superbly. He is given a tranquiliser on account of his rage, and is asked to take time off work.

Now he has finally hit rock bottom.

The sedated, spaced out Ross under the influnce of his tranquiliser is a constant part of the character from then on, replacing the uptight characteristic that limited his humour beforehand.

He is now cut from the shackles of “Ross and Rachel”, and subsequently “Ross and Emily.” He has nothing to lose.

His inner geek is free to be unleashed and wreak havoc on any unsuspecting date, colleague or Friend.

He no longer takes himself too seriously.

Although the change can be clearly marked in this way, it was only a subtle shift in both the writing and performance of the character that created it.

There is no doubt that Friends was all the better for the emergence of the true Professor Geller.

[icegram campaigns=”12930″]

We asked renowned comedy coach, director and script editor Chris Head to give some advice for people writing Chorts comedy scripts.

But first, for those not down with the latest comedy lingo, you might be wondering what Chorts are exactly.

Chorts are teaser videos, max 2 minutes in length, that showcase a comedy character or characters. They should be funny in their own right, and show potential for further development. They are the new way to test out your comedy ideas.

The best Chorts are screened at festivals and events. You can check them out here

So back to the advice.

We asked Chris some questions that crop up for many creators when writing a Chort script. The advice is fantastic and very detailed. This is worth a read whatever type comedy script you are writing. Or even if you just want to learn some comedy writing essentials.

Here it is.

How can I create a comic character?

Think about developing comedy characters from these starting points:

INDIVIDUALS
TYPES
YOUR SELF

INDIVIDUALS
Here you are basing your character on a specific person. A real person whom you think has rich comic potential. You’ll be looking at people with:

Hypocrisy
Neuroses
Incompetence
Delusion

You start with someone real then fictionalise and exaggerate. Remember that it is the negatives and dysfunctional aspects of the character that are the funny stuff. And remember to distance your version of the person from the real starting point. Often this can work if they are the wrong person to be in a particular role or if they are behaving badly for their situation.

TYPES
Here you’re creating a character that is a recognisable type in society. Eg: Bouncer, cab driver, university lecturer… You are probably amalgamating a number of examples of the type that you have come across in the real world; people that you have encountered or seen in the media etc… It needs to ring true with how the audience view that type.

The danger of starting with a ‘type’ is that it ends up being a one-dimensional stereotype.
Three dimensional stereotypes are okay! By this I mean that people do exist who are basically stereotypes. As long as your character is as fleshed out and rounded as a real person then it doesn’t matter if they are a stereotype and comedy often uses stereotypes. It’s also a quick way into the joke of the character as we get what they are about already.

The major opportunity here is that if you nail the type you can get big laughs of recognition.

YOUR SELF
Here you are using yourself as the starting point for the character. It is a similar process to the individuals process, but instead of shining the light outwards, you are shining it within. This needs a lot of self-awareness and an ability to laugh at yourself and show your dysfunctional sides.

What do you need to consider when writing for a single actor and a single camera?

Remember the shot is likely to be framed quite tightly on the upper body. So picture your character in a portrait setting. Write in some physicality that will come across within those confines. For example, say how they’re sitting or if they keep running their hands through their hair.

Make sure you write speech. Don’t write it like a short story or a newspaper column. Try and capture the feel of someone speaking spontaneously. A way to approach this is to write a draft of your monologue (or of their dialogue responses to the off-camera voice), turn it into bullet points and then record yourself speaking it aloud with only the bullet points to guide you. Play back this recording and you will have a more natural sounding, spontaneous version. Use this recording as a basis to rewrite the original text.

Ask yourself:
What is the context in which the character is speaking?
Who are they speaking to?

Context:
The viewer needs to know very quickly where the piece it taking place. Here you need to set up the context in the words. Don’t assume the piece will be filmed in a relevant location so giving us visual pointers. (It might be, but don’t rely on it.) Make sure the words give us the context. Don’t leave the viewer confused as to where it is.

They could be:
In a social context, just talking as if to a friend or family member.
In a work context, as if addressing colleagues or a client.
In a media context where they would address a camera – eg, reality TV, news, sport, documentary.
Or it could be a dating video or a charity appeal or a Skype call, or a phone call…

Who they are speaking to:
There needn’t be a second voice – but if there is, it needs to have minimal input and for the focus to be on the main character. A simple approach would be if we the viewer don’t hear the off-screen voice (as in a phone call). But you need to be clear in your own mind what they are saying and what your character is responding to. It also opens up the potential for jokes when we discover through your character what the other person has just said.

If it is just a monologue, still think about who they are talking to. Even if they are just addressing the viewer ask yourself how they are speaking; is it as if to a friend or to a professional colleague.mAnd crucially ask yourself what they want. Why are they speaking? They must want something. Be clear about what they are trying to achieve, even if it’s only to get something off their chest. Whatever it is, being clear where they are, who they are speaking to and why will help enormously.

Any tips or “must dos” for showing off a comedy character in 2 minutes?

Be clear about what the central comic idea is; what is the game of the character? Eg, they are a nerd who is trying to be really cool. Or they are a teacher who doesn’t know anything about their subject. Structure your two minute piece in this way:

SET-UP – preparing the ground – the who/ where/ what
REVEAL – where the central comic idea is revealed – you need to be clear what the main joke is about the character and introduce it here. This is the ‘game’ of the character.
ESCALATION – You now build the absurdity of the central comic idea.
PAY-OFF – Give it a twist at the end.

For example:

SET-UP – The person is a therapist. They are doing a phone consultation.
REVEAL – They don’t listen and are not at all sympathetic.
ESCALATION – They get more and more dismissive and unsympathetic
PAY-OFF – We discover they are talking to their spouse.

A key thing thing to keep in mind is the gap between how the character sees themselves and how the audience see them. Essentially the character has a better opinion of themselves that they are projecting. So in the above, the therapist will think they actually are helping but we the audience clearly see they aren’t. This is dramatic irony – we the audience get something the character doesn’t. You can think in terms of persona/shadow. The persona is how they want to come across and their shadow is all the negative things that leak out and undermine the impression they are creating. This is a key to comedy characters. The bigger the gap, the more absurd they are. A classic example of this is Alan Partridge.

One way to achieve a persona/shadow effect in writing is to switch abruptly from a positive to a negative statement, or from nice to rude switching. Dame Edna is a great example of this. And she is also projecting friendliness and bonhomie (persona) but this is constantly undercut by snide comments (shadow). You could think about switching from/to:

Nice/nasty
Clever/stupid
Informed/ignorant
Sophisticated/crude

The end result you’ll try and make look chatty but with a pretty tight rhythm of setting it up (statement A) and paying if off (statement B).

Common mistakes when writing a monologue for a character

The main mistake to avoid is making it unclear or confusing. I watched some of the films from the original Chorts initiative with a group of students. We picked a small random selection. We discovered that some didn’t work because they were simply confusing. The performance was often okay, even intriguing. But we didn’t understand where they were, what they wanted, who they were and what the joke was meant to be. The ones that worked had a clear set-up and a clear comic idea. It showed how important it is to be clear with the set-up, then reveal the joke (or the game of the character), then escalate the idea, then finish it crisply.