It’s Britain’s Got Talent meets Dragons' Den, tinged with a little Jerry Springer, so seems the current description of the TV pilot that’s in the works. Production is squeaking along and, as predicted, the shoot dates have been changed twice since my last post. I’m going to be blacklisted from my hair salon.
A venue in Norwich has been chosen. Road trip! If the private plane doesn’t pan out, I’ve chosen Plan B.
Seems there’s a little trouble brewing in Norwich. I’m told our candidates - people who’d like a little help with a life changing issue - are, umm, unusual.
It’s come to this: Normal people just won’t do for TV. Wonder what that says about me. One of the candidates has an ambition to be a Johnny Depp look alike. (I resist the urge to insert photo.) Surely, either you are a Johnny Depp look alike, or you aren’t. Am I correct here? I’m told he’s the spitting image, especially when he’s donned full Jack Sparrow regalia. So why does he need help from our panel? Is it a business plan he’s after? Or would he like hair and clothing advice à la Mr. Depp? Guess I’ll find out later.
Our producer and director have pulled a few more quirky people out of the barrel.
Quirky, in this case, also means unreliable, a bit flaky and highly volatile. At the moment we are unsure of shoot dates. Apparently pinning down two consecutive days, attempting to collect the candidates' questionnaires and wrangling a commitment from them has been a nightmare. I’m wondering if I should be concerned for my safety. Might they throw chairs and other objects? There are no plans to have therapists standing in the wings, so I suggest we borrow a couple from the Jeremy Kyle show. Insurance anyone?
Boy oh boy.