Even though I worked hard on my pitch, I was probably the most surprised one in the room when the television company ran with my idea for a new show.
It was inspired by The Traitors. In fact, it was identical; a complete rip off. The only difference is that the murdered contestants are actually killed off, in horrible, horrible ways.
When the television representatives started laughing at the idea, I assumed I was to be laughed out of the room, but they immediately started throwing side plots and torture scenes into the proverbial pot.
Because it was Channel 4 – having actually been laughed out of the room by the BBC executives – someone suggested that the cast of the show was naked.
“Maybe there could be a Love Island element to it,” he followed up. “If you don’t fall in love . . .” He made a sawing motion across his neck, even though everyone around him was kiboshing his idea before he had even finished.
The papers were signed that same day, with me promised a producer credit.
I asked if that meant I could be included in casting the celebrity version, to which the answer was, “Absolutely yes, darling.”
On the tube on my way to the zoo, I started making my wish list. On it are a fair number of “celebrities” made famous from appearing on reality TV, the irony of which is delicious.
Riding the wave of unexpected success, I made a note for another television rip off I might pitch, inspired by the meeting: The Great Naked British Bake Off?
But I scratched it out straight away. The thought of Hollywood being involved, which he’d definitely want to be, turned me off the idea.
Instead, I added his name to the wish list.
I spent the rest of the journey to the zoo trying to the think of the name of that actor from the family of actors – the one who spends all his time on social media spreading inflammatory comments – but I couldn’t place him. That’s exactly the level of insignificance we’re looking for.
vss #67
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