A decade or so back I flew to Sydney to work on a TV idea that didn’t take off, a book show. We should have known it was never going to take off. TV already had a book show, which is to say the ABC did. Who else was going to make one? SBS? Don’t make me larf. We needed a budget for this thing.
I can’t remember the full pitch now, but it was going to be ‘different’.
Example? Rather than getting a bunch of plonkers to sit around yammering on about some widely unread piece of Big L literature, we’d do real books wot real punters read. And our writer fights would be proper stoushes with our writer fighters dressed up in giant rubber Sumo suits to have at each other while discussing the work under study.
It was going to be set in a pub. Possibly surrounded by zombies.
I wanted Frank Moorhouse to be the bartender and when Frank made you a martini it would be a real fucking martini and if you knew what was good for you, you’d fucking drink it, guvnor.
It would’ve been a great show.
Frank would have made a great bartender.