Jimmy Page’s Trousers

Now that I am unmasked and no longer anonymous, there is little need for further subterfuge. So then, here I am in all my avatary glory.

It was made via this place (which seems to be down at the moment).

In reality, I’m not quite so youthful-looking and there is usually more stubble on the rest of my face than shown - the editing options were finite. Other than that, a reasonable likeness I think.

Oh, and my ears are not so big in real life.

Ladies, form an orderly queue.

At last, something useful from Lidl.  And what a brilliant thing it is.  Lidl are selling this Shower Stool.  Behold.

This is what I’ve been seeking all these years.  Now, when I’m horribly hungover, I can have a refreshing shower while also having a bit of a sit down.  Fantastic.  This standing-up lark is for the birds.

All I need now is one of those neck-brace things to avoid having to hold my own head up and my hangovers will be a vastly more pleasant experience.  I may even try for more of them.

Honestly.

Last week I wrote the first draft of a short and, oddly enough, I don’t feel the usual burning shame on considering it.  I’m very aware of some rough edges to be knocked off in the rewrites but, overall, I’m actually happy with it.  So far.

More importantly, for me at least, is that a muse has paid me a visit.

For the last month or two, time has been slip-slipping away towards the deadline of the Red Planet Prize - a much-respected TV writing competition thing.   It’s a toughie though.  A 60-minute pilot for something with TV series potential.  As well as the pilot script, the competition also requires an outline of the series it precedes.  That’s big-boy shit and I’ve been pretty much at a loss for anything even remotely resembling an idea since it started.  I didn’t want to stray into the well-worn areas of cops or doctors or adventuring archeologists.  I had considered a show where Robson and Jerome reprise their Soldier, Soldier roles ten years on.  They’re now a duo of mercenaries that travel the world, meting out bloody destruction and soulless covers of sixties classics.  The working title was Crooners Of Fortune.

Last night though, I had an actual idea.  Something that can definitely get me the 60 minutes required but needs some slapping about to give up a series.  I think it’s a runner though (although not a returning series - one-off).  Some initial plotting today and a half-dozen experimental pages to see if the characters have any meat on their bones.  So far, so not-bad.

I am very much on the back-foot in this though, everyone else having had a big head start, but there’s time to get something sorted between now and the end of September.

Also, if you haven’t already, it’d be great if you could go to the Movie Mogul page, register and vote for me, Gerry Hayes.  I’m slipping down the ratings and I need to be in the top ten at the end of the month to go through the the jury round.  It’s all explained here and here.  I’d really appreciate it if you could register and vote - it would genuinely help me out.

Ignominious plea over.  Thanks a lot.

How many mini-muffins do you think equal one regular muffin?

How many mini-muffins do you think would be too much to eat in one sitting?

Baby Trousers turned four the other day - a baby no more.  She celebrated in fine style with much merriment and sugary treats.  She also drew a splendid picture of me.  A fine likeness (not that most of you know) and one that now holds pride of place on the fridge door.

She’s captured me, I think.  Incidentally, that huge arm is no accident.  She specifically pointed out that it was dad’s big arm.  I was under the impression that my arms were fairly similar in size but apparently not.  The reasons were explained to me:  that is the arm that she likes to cling to, arms and legs crossed around the forearm monkey-style, while I lift her in a sort of ‘biscep curl’ action.  I did it once when she was little and she still asks me to do it now and then.  It gets harder as she gets bigger and I get older.

Yes, I know it’s all slightly distasteful, this shameless self-promotion, but since I last mentioned my request for votes in the Movie Mogul Fund, I have received an email from them that expressly tells me to canvass.  They even suggested friends, family and Facebook.  I have exactly six friends, my family is dysfunctional in the extreme and, as I neither am, nor am I pretending to be, a thirteen-year old girl, I have no presence on any social networking sites.  I’m not even sure how they work.

Therefore, I can now, legitimately and above-board, request that you go and vote for me.  Even if you don’t like it (and let’s face it, it is a bit pants).

Off you go then.  Rock the vote.

Mine’s towards the bottom of the first page - Gerry Hayes.  I know, I know - I should have used a pseudonym.  Perhaps Guy de Grand-Valise or maybe Ulrich VonLagerberger.  I’ll know better next time.

No pressure, but as I now have no other source of income, if you don’t vote, it’ll be your fault when I’m living in a box, when I’m living in a cardboard box.

Earlier this year, I entered a short in the British Short Screenplay Competition.

In typical fashion, as soon as it was in the post, I began to hate every word that I’d written and immediately went to the garden to cut a switch with which to beat the shame out of myself.  I’m actually thinking of getting one of those spiky leg things that the albino bloke in The da Vinci Code wore, just so I can excise the shame on an ongoing basis.  Might save my flagellation arm.

Anyway, I read today that the first round qualifiers had been anounced and, much to my genuine surprise, I’ve made the cut.  My short, Memoir, has survived to the next round.

Now, I’m not completely sure what the next round entails, but it would be nice to think that one of the, distinguished (really, take a look), judging panel would get to throw my screenplay to the floor in disgust while grimacing and vowing not to agree to judge again next year.

That’d be nice.  Hope it’s Branagh.

I have entered the Movie Mogul Fund screenwriting contest.  This involved writing a synopsis for the movie I would write (were I to have the chance) based on the logline below.

Genre: Black comedy
Title: ‘NEGOTIATING LIFE’
“A melancholic life insurance salesman finds his attempts at committing suicide thwarted by his disgruntled customers…”

It’s a bit of an odd brief - the previous round was a logline contest and this was the winner.  Anyway, I had an idea and bashed off a synopsis.   If, by some crazy miracle, I am successful, I may get a chance to write the first draft of a script that might actually get made.  Which would be nice.

First however, there is a vote.  The top ten synopsis are put through to a jury round and to get there I need to have people vote for me.  Hopefully, existing site members will like my synopsis enough to vote for it, but I figure it can’t hurt to put things out there.

So then, you can see the first paragraph of each synopsis here - Movie Mogul Fund Entries

And, you can read a PDF containing the detailed synopses here - Movie Mogul Fund - Synopsis Details

Regular readers, who have listened to me bleat on about writing for a while, might want to have a read of these.  After that, if (and only if - I’m nothing if not honest and ethical) you think mine is any good, it’d be fantastic if you could register with the site and submit a vote for me.  Registering is super-easy and I’m pretty sure that they won’t sell your email to those blokes that peddle manhood-enhancement products.  No pressure people, no pressure.

Anyway, I realise that this shameless self-promotion is relatively useless if I remain a shadowy, anonymous, blogger.  Therefore, it’s time to come clean.  My entry is the seventh one down - Gerry Hayes.  Yep, that’s me - quite the anti-climax, eh?  The mask is down.  My enigmatic, air of dark mystery has vanished.  Still, I’d have had to break the news when it came time for my BAFTA acceptance anyway - might as well get it over with.

Speaking of BAFTA, I’ll obviously mention you in my speech.  You know, assuming I remember.

Only if you think it’s any good, remember.  Really.  While I seriously doubt that the readership of my blog could skew any vote to a substantial degree, I want to be as scrupulous as possible.