THE BOOTH - Pilot - Birthdays

When cooped up in a radio studio on one of the hottest days of 2012, naturally I started thinking what it would be like to be forced to be there. What if you had been lured to this room and locked in? What if you were held against your will until you had satisfied your captor with rousing anecdotes? Would that be torture, not just for the participants, but for those who listened to the procedure as well? The only way to find out the answers was, of course, to pilot a podcast panel show.

I wrote a script overnight, roped in two colleagues who I knew had highly developed funny bones, and, on 24th May 2012, shot the show. By which I mean recorded. I did not riddle my programme with bullets. That usually scares off commissioners.

Anyway, upon listening to the result, I decided that it was of sufficient quality to go onto the internet (and, considering the average content of the world wide web, that doesn't say a lot about my confidence) and put it on Soundcloud under the name THE BOOTH.

A few months later, I recorded a full series (well, I say full. It had four episodes and a special). The original had been so much fun so why not?

There are plenty of reasons why not but I ignored them. A second series and a couple of specials later and the whole run is going on Youtube to showcase the work of Talking Tosh. This gives me an excuse to indulge in some nostalgia as well as a chance to reveal some titbits of trivia from the show. Let's start from the very beginning (after all, as a famous ex-nun once said, it's a very good place to start) with the pilot... 

THE BOOTH - PILOT

THEME: Birthdays.

WHO'S ON FIRST?: Dan and Tosh. The former is my fellow producer at our company, Talking Tosh. The latter is commemorated in said name because he has bookended each of our series' shows. They both have nice hair.

FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING: It is rather apt that this episode's theme is birthdays considering that this is our pilot. Speaking of which, as this is the initial edition, everything in this is the first. This includes the final quick-fire game 'Reel or fake' which actually makes its only appearance here. It didn't lend itself to funny answers so is replaced by a new quiz for the series proper.

SIX DEGREES OF THE BOOTH: None - it's only the first episode. There cannot be any other callbacks to other editions because, well, there aren't any.

NEXT WEEK: The first episode of Series One. The guests are very familiar...

THE BOOTH pilot can be found here.

TIHSPITFOAL: Berlin Edition!

Last year, I went to France. This year, I didn't. I went to Berlin though so you're not spared the "joy" of seeing some holiday snaps just yet!

Ah, I'm kidding. Feel free to do something more interesting like cutting your nails or doing your taxes. Or don't. Whatever.

Still here? Great! Then come along for a look at the ever-so-slightly disturbing world of Germany where I saw...



A MAN WELCOMING VISITORS INTO HIS CROTCH

A DESPERATE LONELY MACHINE

A RECENTLY FIRED MEMBER OF 'THE BLUE MAN GROUP'

AN UNSURPRISING NAME GIVEN THE NATIONALITY

A CHOCOLATE BEAR WHO HAS SEEN TOO MUCH

THE SHOWER OF SHAME

A ROOM WHERE THEY PRESUMABLY ALL SOUND LIKE STEPHEN MERCHANT

A BISON WITH A CRAFTY DISGUISE

PROOF THE ZOO HAVE BEEN DOING GENETIC EXPERIMENTS

JACKIE ONASSIS IN SHOE FORM, AND...

CREEPY SEXY CHOCOLATE. Oh dear lord.

And the award for the Second Paradox I've Found This Month goes to...

Surely if it cleans itself, we shouldn't have to do the work.

Unless it's not a self-cleaning area in which case why put up the sign?

Look, either we have to put rubbish in the bins or the area does it for you. Which is it? Do I dispose of this crisp wrapper myself? Will some sort of robot butler do it for me?  Am I really overestimating what technology is available yet?

Which is possible. I did once expect my phone's predictive text to recognise the word 'hooray'...

Jock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels

I received a text recently that said the following: Never trust a Scot.

Intriguing.

I should immediately hasten to explain that this missive didn't come completely out of the blue and in fact was a reply to a previous message. I don't tend to make a habit of receiving random vaguely-threatening bits of advice.

Anyway, this seemingly simple sentence has caused me no end of grief. Let me explain my problem with it. If a Scot tells you never to trust a Scot, then we potentially have a paradox.

If you follow his advice and do not trust it, then you have, inexplicably, trusted it.

If you do not follow his advice, it suggests you do not trust it, which means you have, once again, taken it to heart.

The only solution to this riddle then is to listen to no one ever again.

Then again, that advice once more brings us to a paradox...

If I say 'do not listen to anyone' then how can you follow this instruction without first hearing it from me?

If you decide I am the final person you will listen to before ignoring future speakers, then why take my word as superior to others?

If you take my statement to be inherently cynical, why not dismiss me too?

If - ah, all this thinking is giving me a headache. These paradoxes are more confusing than a mime in a house of mirrors. I'm afraid the juries still out on Scots, folks. If one approaches you - I don't know - just give them the advice and run away whilst they ponder it. That's what did I did. I haven't seen my phone since...

Fifty Shades of Great

Yellow is mellow,
Blue is, well, blue.
Green's an eco freak
so he's just like you.

Black's very dark,
Red's always mad,
White is so bright -
takes after his dad.

Orange is a fruit,
Pink's a bit gay.
Don't mind that at all -
they're my friends, okay?

I like all colours,
see each as a mate.
Every one's diff'rent
That what makes them great.

Getting Shirty

A t-shirt intrigued me the other day (you certainly can't accuse this blog of containing unscintillating sentences...). Anyway, this exciting garment bore the following message:





Wow. Whoever owns this must have guaranteed their place in the Parthenon of greats! Who knew that getting god-like status was so easy? I thought you had to do heroic deeds, fight monsters, or save millions (of lives, that is - I'm not suggesting you become the stuff of myths through being extremely thrifty) but no, apparently all it takes is purchasing a shirt for £8.49!

Affordable ways of buying status aside, the slogan appears to imply that there is a key difference between the wearer and their legacy which is quite disappointing especially if, as the direction of the arrow implies, said reputation is that they're a dick. Maybe their genitals are going to be celebrated in song for years to come? Who knows? I'm definitely not canny enough to work it out. If only I was a legend.

Radio (not so) Gaga.

This week, a journalist listened to a single programme of a Radio 4 sitcom she ended up disliking and wrote off, on the basis of this one half hour, not just the episode or the show, but the whole of audio comedy. Based on that logic, I should, because I hated her article, give up words.

I've not though. Obviously.

What I will give up on however is reading pieces with outrageous intentionally attention-seeking headlines that are clearly designed to provoke people into reading their contentious views, retweet them endlessly, and blog about why they're wrong whilst again linking people to the original arti-

Oh.

Well, I've failed there. Perhaps I should give up words...