Tuesday, January 30, 2007

My thrilling day

WARNING: ANECDOTE. Set Ustinovometer to "Stun".

Was at the BBC yesterday for a meeting (kids TV show - I know, me, unleashed on innocent, impressionable minds, what were they thinking?), and when I was finished, someone was assigned to escort me out. If you've never been to the Beeb, their buildings occupy an area the size of Spain, with millions of corridors, staircases, lifts, walkways, alleys, and catacombs. It is impossible to find your way around, so people have to come and get you. They lead you on a 4 hour walk through various strange areas, until you get to the person you want to meet. If you're lucky, neither of you has died of old age. I mean, they've got a TARDIS in one corridor, why don't they keep that at reception, and use it to quickly transport people around? Probably an abuse of the power.

Anyway. The nice lady who was escorting me out asked me if I was a director, or writer, or what. I'm a writer, I replied wittily. "Ooh," she said, and genuinely meant this: "That must be exciting!" So I just laughed. Really loudly. Couldn't help it. Then I realised that was probably an incredibly rude thing to do, so I explained that well, yes, sometimes it was incredibly exciting, what with having things made, or going on set and meeting famous, attractive people, but that a lot of it involved doing nothing, waiting, or sitting inside, alone, tapping at a keyboard, which was why I laughed. I may not have made that clear enough though, because I was desperately scrambling to avoid seeming like a git. So if you're reading this, nice BBC temp lady who escorted the babbling idiot to the door yesterday: sorry about that.

And then I had another media ponce moment - before I left, I had to phone a man about the secret TV outline thing (which should soon be a secret TV script thing), so I was actually standing in the BBC reception, talking on the phone with a bloke about a telly "project". All I would have needed to complete the wanky picture was a cappuccino. You wait, I'll have a fucking goatee soon, or something.


Amanda said...

If you ever grow a goatee, I promise to behead you. Similarly,I shall hack off your hands and gouge out your eyes if you ever get a blackberry. Verily I say unto thee: we shall fight the demon powers of ponceyness and lo, you will never become a yuppie.

This is all.

Phillip Barron said...

My favourite conversation is this one:

What do you do?

I'm a scriptwriter.

Ooh! Have you written anything I've heard of?


Oh. Still, I expect you'll be famous someday.

Probably not. What's your favourite film?


Who wrote it?



Anonymous said...



soulmining said...

I could just picture you with a goatee...

Come on, cut the crap, we all know you're writing for BBC's next season of... OUCH MY KNEES!!! Okay, okay, I'll shut up!

Damn you!

David Bishop said...

Perhaps a filofax and a shiny suit?

Dom Carver said...

Don't forget the nifty looking bluetooth ear attachment for your mobile.

patroclus said...

A cappuccino isn't nearly ambitious enough. Your goal should be the unselfconscious ordering and subsequent consumption of a grande skinny chai tea latte.

James Moran said...

No, no! I don't *want* to become a poncey media wanker! I'm trying to avoid it, and by recognising the warning signs, hopefully I will stay safe. Blackberry would be the final stage, then I would have become death, destroyer of worlds.

As for beards - nothing wrong with beards, or cool goatees, but those poncey little media goatee efforts must be destroyed. Some sort of Errol Flynn or pirate goatee would rock.

Phil: You saw 24 on Sunday night?? That'll be your HOUSE!

I still say "coffee", and "large" or "medium" or whatever, especially in those places that have funny names for things. I refuse to learn the madeup words, it's just not right.

Lauren said...

LOLLL what a great post, funny story. I'm sure the lady was not offended or whatever ;)

Oh James, check sci-fi tonight at 9pm, i believe your friend Laura is on :P haha!


Phillip Barron said...

Cool goatees? Really?

I get really angry in Starbucks: Grande, Venti, Tall - they all mean big. Just give me a cup of tea god damn you, and don't even think about asking me what type. TEA!

Amanda said...

"Some sort of Errol Flynn or pirate goatee would rock."

Fuck it,why not take this notion to the extreme and actually become Jack Sparrow for a year? I could help you with the eyeliner and plaiting the beardy bit.

Of course,if all the characters in your writing then started asking 'Savvy?!' on the end of each sentence, we'd have run into a problem... but it'd be a fine experiment,I feel.

Mr Barron: both your comments made me chuckle. Just sayin'.

Lauren said...

LOL Phillip ... yeah good choice of names for the sizes right? lol .. although i LOVE Starbucks, im addicted to the place! :P

badwolf5886 said...


I'm not a writer, but a watcher, and not in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer sense! I love TV, and films, and wanna b a film critic. Anywho, I'm totally obsessed with Doctor Who and have written a whole load of rumours and speculation about series 3. Bang2write told me you'd be interested, so if you wanna check it out please visit my blog!

Anonymous said...

who doesn't want to be a poncey media wanker? if i could grow a goatee i certainly would. (i'm female.)

trouble is we all can't get away with it. it would look like such effort, everyone could see right through our ponce-attempts and scorn. what fools we would look, geeky clean shaven black coffee drinking fools.