Not Persuaded To Laugh

Picture the scene: you're at work/the pub/a picnic, nattering away the hours with colleagues/mates/some family whose al fresco luncheon you've just gatecrashed, when conversation inevitably turns to the weeks' TV. Invariably, no matter how clever/entertaining/cool the programme being dissected by this informal focus group is, some arrogant so-and-so will spew forth the hyperbolic claim: "I could write a better show than that". Well, I generally think to myself (when it isn't I who has made said claim), what the 'eck are you doing wasting your days in Morrisons/the Hungry Horse/this fly-infested field in the Lake District, mi laddo? Get back on your laptop and email this hallowed, mould-breaking script to the BBC, post haste!

The reason they are wasting their days in Morrisons/the Hungry Horse/this fly-infested field in the Lake District, 99.9999999999% of the time, is because they HAVEN'T written a hallowed, mould-breaking script at all (in fact, they don't even have a laptop), they were merely bragging to impress the girl in the bakery/the barmaid in the low-cut top/stop the father of the family from calling the police before they've finished their scotch egg. The other 0.00000000001% of the time they were drunk/drunk/drunk.

Tonight I watched the first episode of a new BBC sitcom called The Persuasionists, starring a throng of recognisable comics from recent TV projects (I won't name and shame them, but you can see them in the pic above). I went into the programme with high hopes, not only because of the cast, but because it had been advertised and hyped as one of the big new comedies of the new year. A sure-fire hit, surely?

29 minutes later I switched off the TV, shaking my head and powerless to stop my lips from uttering the cliched phrase: "I could write a better show than that". I wasn't even being immodest, I KNOW I could write a funnier comedy than that. I'd even go as far as to say I HAVE written a funnier comedy than that, but you'll have to take my word for that, for now (it is currently being judged in the Sitcom Mission competition).

The Persuasionists was cluttered with hideous, stereotypical, borderline racist characters who were totally untrue to life, doing stupid, outrageous, unfathomable things just because somebody with a low-brow sense of humour may giggle as a boss throws a bread bin at his failing underling, or a “foreign colleague” uses a giant pencil to seduce random girls by making a lot of poor taste cock jokes. Even the nicest/tamest/most boring character is a lazy no-hoper. How ironic that a comedy based around advertisers attempting to sell absolute tat to gullible saps, made such a fine mess of persuading me to give this shit-com another chance. Clearly some tat stinks worse than a quart of out-of-date cockney cheddar.

My question is this: WHO at the Beeb had the bright idea of not only resurrecting this 2-year-old dud from the annals of TV history (it first piloted in 2007, with Chris “A.J. Rimmer” Barrie on board; he was wise to jump ship), but also thought it worthy of a promotion from digital BBC Three to terrestrial BBC 2*?!! Was it the same genius who turned down the chance to screen a new series of Red Dwarf, but thought Big Top was comedy gold?

To quote the show for the first/last/only time: “Sort it aaaat!!!!!!!!!!” BBC! If I know I can do better than The Persuasionists, then surely YOU know you can do better than The Persuasionists?

Now, where's that scotch egg I was rudely prevented from finishing?


* I could make a biting joke about scum rising – given that the pilot was originally named The Scum Also Rises – but that would involve be going back over my blog and editing in that titbit of information. Can I be arsed? Does the fact you're reading a post script answer your question?

TV Catch-up: The Day of the Triffids - Part 1 (2009)

"Feeeeeeeeeeeeeed me, Dougray!" It's the Big City Of Horrors

When I found out that the BBC were remaking the classic 1962 horror flick as part of their 2009 festive line-up, my interest was piqued. Not because I'm a huge fan of the original (truth me told I haven't ever seen it), but because the BBC were investing a lot of time, talent and licence-payer's mulah into making an adult sci-fi drama which doesn't rely upon out-of-place S-bombs and OTT sexual innuendo to achieve its 15-rating (coughTorchwoodcough). "And it's being penned by a man whose credits include ER and Law & Order?" Recorder set!

Tonight I finally sat down to catch up on the first 90 minutes of this 2-part 3-hour beast. And what can I say but "Come back Captain Jack, all is forgiven!" On a positive note, the production value was high (it didn't look like it was filmed in a studio, as is often the BBC style), the stars were numerable and - for the most part - fairly high-profile (if all playing rigidly to type), and events kicked off in a similar vein to US favourites Lost and FlashForward with a major(ly expensive) disaster rocking the status quo and making a real mess of the city.

So far, so impressive. If not exactly original.

Then things take a post-apocalyptic turn for the hilarious. While the pocket of "sighted" survivors (those not blinded by the aforementioned status quo-rocking disaster) try to make sense of what has befallen their countrymen and either band together or act snidely deceptive (that's your cue, Mr Izzard), they also have to deal with an enemy far greater than a panicked population...

Plants.

Bred in top secret high-tech farms as a combative to global warming (which, you'll agree, is a plus), the eponymous Triffids are violent (!), meat-eating (!!), mobile (!!!) plants which hunt out food (human flesh) when not supplied with root service (this is a rather hefty minus - but a great excuse for a cracking flora pun). Why settle for sunlight and water when you can gorge on an ungoggled human eyeball?!

Sounds like a monstrously wicked horror, doesn't it? But here lies the root (yep, I used the same word to pun again; leaf me alone!!) of the problem: for all the recent advancements in CGI, Triffids on the move still look like a guy shuffling in a compost suit (and bring to mind a certain intentionally-shoddy Pleasure GELF from Red Dwarf. See picture, laugh), undoing all of the impressive work that went into the opening set-piece and making fools of the characters who are running from their stalk-ers. Scared? No, me neither. Disappointed? You betcha. Tickled? Like a naked guy in a chicken suit.

Don't hold your breath for a review of Part #2. Seriously, I'm no good at CPR.