Thursday, 8 January 2009

In Partibus Infidelium, Chumps!

Charlie, Charlie Brooker - everyone knows your brain...

He is a mortal man, this Screenwipe man. He has fallabilities pouring from the usual pores, and makes mistakes, and Dead Set really wasn't very good. Just another zombie movie (weirdly) with all the acerbic, culturally incisive teeth dissolved by everyday bile. But he is still Charlie Brooker. He slays reputations the size of cliff-faces armed with sheer boggle-eyed scatalogical indignation, and that deserves him the title "Christ of Our Age".

He has a terrible listening face though. I'm convinced he's not a listener: he's a ranter. I wouldn't want him interviewing me for a job, for example. Though I have been interviewed by at least one ranter, and that wasn't much fun either. I want to be interviewed by people who have already offered me the job. Maybe he has a job for me.

He was talking to writers last night - Tony Jordan, Paul Abbott, the godlike Graham Linehan, the Peep Show creeps, and Russell T DrWho. Always massively frustrating these things. How they became writers: fuck's sake! It's purely biographical. There is no career advice in there; no advice as how best to sit down and get writing. (And some scenes seemed to be filmed next door to a kids' swimming pool.) Everyone does it differently, except they agree the first draft is the hardest.

I have written nothing (ie finished it) since I was 21. Not counting songs, gig reviews and poems obviously. It is beyond the time I should give up on the idea, isn't it?

Is there anyone who wants to pay me for wandering around my own head for a few hours every day? (No, there isn't.)

Your pal, Coc x

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