Forteen

1:45pm - Haven’t written in a while. Been incredibly busy. Sister came back to Leeds from University in Canterbury (where she studies theatre and film. A good setting, i think).  I’m just writing to say that I’m going to Scotland tomorrow and won’t be back for a week. I plan to write a good chunk of Wodehouse while I’m away so, hopefully, when i write again, I’ll bring some good news. I also plan to indulge myself in two of my most beloved of loves: James Joyce and Thomas Hardy. I wonder what the fastest time is for reading Ulysses. Somewhere or someone must have this information. This is what we need to know.

Thirteen

3:17pm - After a little research in the darker part of the library i have discovered how to make a Zombie.

Apparently, drugs administered as a series of complex and highly dangerous cocktails have the effect first of putting the victim into a state of suspended animation so that they appear temporarily dead, then of putting them in to a trance-like stupor.

It’s a cocktail i doubt will be introduced to bars around the world with much speed, but here are the ingredients if you’re that way inclined:

1) Tetrodotoxin - Capable of inducing paralysis and other symptoms part of the Zombie legend. It is an exceptionally potent anaesthetic.

2) Bufo Marinus - Boosts physical strength.

3) Datura - Powerful hallucinogenic properties, capable of inducing a dazed-like state.

I sense an episode of House coming along.

Twelve

10:17pm - I’m still recovering from a pretty awful cold so i used this as an excuse to sit and watch the Boat Race whilst drinking fudge-flavoured chocolate milkshake. Can’t believe Oxford won. They certainly had a lot of adrenalin this time round, what with the controversy of the 2007 race. Also a lot of encouragement, given to them by the sight of an American mutton-chopped rower in their boat. I am ancestrally obliged to feel terrible for Cambridge, though, so… sorry lads. Next year, eih?

OK, quickly, i have decided that I’m going to go to sleep early tonight so that my mind isn’t completely destroyed by the confusion of waking up tomorrow with one less hour. I know that, for some people, the clocks changing doesn’t cause a problem but, for me, it completely messes up my internal clock. I think I’ll do a bit of work on my novel and then close my eyes. Speaking of which, the novel is coming along nicely. I’ve finally gotten in to a good stride with it, and have settled upon a writing style which is quite fluent and very rewarding. I find myself sitting down for an hour an evening and producing several worthy pages which, compared to my last attempt at novel writing, is pretty brilliant. I’ve shooed away the perfectionist inside of me, and have gladly welcomed the knowledge that this is the first draft and therefore every sentence does not need to be absolutely spot on before i move on to the next. It feels rather liberating.

Eleven

11:13pm - I am now officially a member of the Yorkshire Evening Post journalism team. Andy Hutchinson phoned me this morning to discuss the matter. He was terribly nice, and extremely enthusiastic about the paper, and he gave me permission to go and contact anyone i like to get a story, as a representative of the Yorkshire Evening Post. I will have to provide a photograph for as many articles as i can, and i can work as many hours as i like, be it an hour a day, or an hour a week, or an hour a month; it’s entirely up to me. When i have an article i simply e-mail it to him, and i can contact him about anything if i’m not sure about something.

A good start to the day.

Ten

5:31pm - Ugh! I’ve not been well at all these last few days. I’ve been confined to my room where the only movement i could manage was lifting the remote control to change the channel on the TV, and last night i even failed to do that and was forced to watch Desperate Housewives and then Shameless. Woe is me!
I’m feeling healthier today, though, thanks to my supply of left over Easter chocolate and masses of Tropical Fruit Juice. mmm. I’m smothered with a side helping of stress due to the fact that i have a monstrously large pile of packages that need to be posted by tomorrow, and a helluvalot of writing to complete by the weekend. I managed, this afternoon, to phone Andy Hutchinson of the Yorkshire Evening Post but was put through to his answering machine, where i simply left my mobile number. He can phone ME, and i can get on with my work. It’s one less thing to worry about anyway. He sounds like a very nervous man indeed. His answer phone message was spoken by a man with a dry mouth who had clearly rehearsed his speech millions of times only to stumble on every sentence. Bless!
Right ho, must be off. I’ve just realized i have a few letters to compose by this evening’s last pick up (6pm). I suppose i could run down to the post box now and write them there.

Nine

4:37pm - Just received an e-mail from the Yorkshire Evening Post. It was Andy Hutchinson asking me to phone him so we can discuss my writing / photographing for the paper. I’m incredibly nervous about it. But, this is what i want to do and there’s no point hiding under my duvet shaking is there? It’s paid work, which means it will be a good way to get some funds to continue writing full time. Still, i mean, what do i say to impress him???

Eight

I’m absolutely outraged at the prospect of Fox going ahead with a US remake of the classic and fantastic brit com, Spaced. What are they thinking? Why?

Simon Pegg’s reaction:

“Now that the pilot has been officially announced, I thought it might be a good idea to clarify my position on the subject. The whole affair seems to have inspired some spirited debate and some heartening displays of loyalty and love. All this for a show which is almost 10 years old, is all rather wonderful and a vindication of all the blood, sweat and tears (both of joy and pain) we shed in the show’s creation. It was always our aim to create a comedy which spoke to its audience on such a personal level, it almost felt one on one.
It would seem the fan reaction to the news that Fox has appropriated the format, confirms at least, that we succeeded.

As far as remaking TV shows for different territories is concerned, I don’t have a problem. The Office remake being a perfect example. Yes, the original British version is a wonderful and compact piece of comedy writing and performance, but I think it’s bit much to expect a large scale American television audience to fully relate to the minutiae of day-to-day business life in an obscure British suburb.
I’m sure if you’re reading this, you are the type of person who takes pleasure in the variety of entertainment you enjoy, relishing the differences between our various cultural touchstones but there is a massive audience out there, which perhaps isn’t as culturally savvy (euphemistic phrase for ‘geeky’) as we are and need their signifiers to be a little more familiar. So, Slough is replaced by Scranton, and the office archetypes become a little more archetypal to an American audience. The spirit of the show remains intact. The performances are uniformly great and the show scores big ratings and wins EMMYs, whether we as comedy purists prefer the original or not. The success of the remake is born out by it’s undoubted success and appeal.

My main problem with the notion of a Spaced remake is the sheer lack of respect that Granada/ Wonderland/Warner Bros have displayed in respectively selling out and appropriating our ideas without even letting us know. A decision I can only presume was made as a way of avoiding having to give us any money, whilst at the same time using mine and Edgar’s name in their press release, in order to trade on the success of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, even professing, as Peter Johnson did, to being a big fan of the show and it’s creators.
A device made all the more heinous by the fact that the press release neglected to mention the show’s co-creator and female voice, Jessica Hynes (nee Stevenson). The fact is, when we signed our contracts ten years ago, we had neither the experience or the kudos to demand any clauses securing any control over future reversioning. We signed away our rights to any input in the show’s international future, because we just wanted to get the show made and these dark days of legal piracy seemed a far away concern. As a result, we have no rights. The show does not belong to us and, those that do own it have no obligation to include us in any future plans. You would perhaps hope though, out of basic professional respect and courtesy, we might have been consulted. It is this flagrant snub and effective vote of no confidence in the very people that created the show, that has caused such affront at our end. If they don’t care about the integrity of the original, why call it Spaced? Why attempt to find some validation by including mine and Edgar’s names in the press release as if we were involved? Why not just lift the premise? Two strangers, pretend to be a couple in order to secure residence of a flat/apartment. It’s hardly Ibsen. Jess and I specifically jumped off from a very mainstream sitcom premise in order to unravel it so completely. Take it, have it, call it Perfect Strangers and hope Balkie doesn’t sue.
Just don’t call it Spaced.

It’s a shame, since the pilot is now a certainty, whether we like it or not, a simple phone call and a few reassurances might have helped to at least curtail the tide of indignation from fans and creators alike. I have, as of yet, heard nothing.

Simon”

This is a ludicrous idea. Hopefully the studio and the American public will see the error of their ways and stop this terrible tragedy from taking place.

Seven

Literary Blues
For Made Magazine
14th March 2008

There’s a curious misconception that the life of a writer is one of glamour - Coffee and croissants in a café for breakfast, lunch in an up market restaurant, followed by a literary dinner in the evening, rubbing shoulders with the elite and sipping champagne from swarovski glasses. If this does happen, then there’s a serious conspiracy against me. I have thus far worn my PJs for five days and counting and the closest I have come to a conversation with another human being is my feeble outburst of anger whilst watching Trisha yesterday morning. I have in fact been so absent from the human world that, if by chance I need to step in to the sunlight, I am so utterly desocialized that I pull on whatever pair of jeans I can find on the back of some chair, throw my coat on over my PJ top, and leave the house with a matted mane of hair due to not having combed it for several weeks. As for the writing, the monotony is unbearable: Up at eight and sit in bed wearing my dressing gown, GMTV playing in the background, staring hopelessly at my empty notebook. By noon I’ve written only a list of possible plots, which is then discarded by the evening along with a day’s worth of doodles and failed opening paragraphs. What’s more, February’s earthquake has left me in an embarrassing state of insomnia as every vibration causes me to plan my best route to safety were the ground to open up beneath me, leaving many more hours to worry about meeting the deadline of this or that novel/article and, believe me, as the Groundhog Day nightmare continues, one can’t help but consider entering in to the comforting blanket of a 9-5 job at Tesco.

5:00pm - I’m absolutely thrilled to hear that Shannon Matthews has been found alive. I admit that i (like many others) was hugely negative about the whole case, purely out of experience (these stories don’t usually have happy endings), but that doesn’t matter anymore. Great stuff.

Six

2:37pm - Gah! I’ve just cut my hair and chainsaw massacre comes to mind…

3.31pm - Still haven’t written anything for Made. But i HAVE found a website for the Richard Madeley Appreciation Society… http://richardmadeley.blogspot.com

Five

10:30am - THE BEGINNING

The book opens up on the 25th December and Charlie is recounting the events of the day. He has been staying in his parents’ house (and not even in the best guest room) getting the feeling that his mother and father wouldn’t mind if he hadn’t turned up, and instead they are eagerly awaiting the visit on Christmas morning by their daughter (with her husband and 11 year old daughter) and eldest son (with his wife and twin sons). He knows why. His parents have high expectations for their children, and while his sister is a University professor and his brother, like their father, is a doctor, Charlie is a writer. Not exactly what his parents wanted. He thinks he embarrasses them.

Charlie spends the day sulking, eating chocolates from the Roses tins, and drinking his miniature whiskey gifts. His niece, Pippa, whose favourite person in the whole world is Charlie himself, tries to cheer him up by explaining that he might have Middle Child Syndrome. Charlie is shocked to find that a) his niece is scarily intelligent for her age, and b) she may well be right. (Note to reader, he doesn’t suffer from Middle Child Syndrome at all, he’s just a bit paranoid)

5.43pm - Ugh! Have to write witty and engaging 300 word article on any subject for Made magazine by Friday morning. Worried because a) Don’t have a clue what to write, and b) 300 words just aren’t enough. I’ve written music reviews longer than that.