GEORGIA PRITCHETT – The Secrets & Pressures of The Comedy Writers’ Room

 think it’s so easy to give ourselves a hard time. And funny enough, when you write down things that have happened, you do actually find a scrap of compassion for your younger self and think, oh, well, you know, I was doing my best. Perhaps I’m not the biggest idiot on this planet.

Hello, I’m Laura Shavin, and this is The Offcuts Drawer, the show that looks inside a writer’s bottom drawer to find the bits of work they never finished, had rejected, or couldn’t quite find a home for. We bring them to life, hear the stories behind them, and learn how these random pieces of creativity paved the way to subsequent success. My guest this week is multi-award-winning comedy and drama writer, Georgia Pritchett, whose US credits include HBO’s Succession, Veep and Avenue Five. And in the UK, she’s written on The Thick of It, Not Going Out, Have I Got News for You, Smack the Pony, and that list doesn’t even touch the sides of her achievements. She is showrunner for the new Will Ferrell-Paul Rudd series, The Shrink Next Door, which is just launched on Apple TV. And her memoir, My Mess Is a Bit of a Life, was published this summer. Her offcuts are a mixed bunch, reflecting only a small part of her prolific output. And I will say this is the most musical edition of the show we’ve ever done. On the day I talked to Georgia, it was her son’s 13th birthday. So we started by discussing the various challenges of having teenage sons. Do you find that your boys are in any way impressed by anything that you do from a work perspective?

No, never, never.

But you’re involved in some of the coolest projects on the planet. Surely, surely they might have given you credit for it, no?

No, I mean, maybe if I was a YouTuber, they would be impressed, but no. I mean, TV is old hat.

Oh really?

And that’s for boomers.

Oh right, yes. I’m not sure, are we boomers?

I don’t think we are. Why don’t we too young to be boomers, aren’t we?

I think I’m right on the cusp of boom and whatever the one is after, a generation X.

Right, yeah.

Because succession is so cool. How can they not be impressed with that?

Well, I’ve never seen that. Yes, I might be a bit rude for them.

Oh, I see.

Yeah, they’re quite prim still.

How did you manage that?

By being emotionally stunted myself and passing that on successfully to my children.

Well, congratulations. That’s an excellent tactic. I wish I’d thought of that myself. Well, let’s get started with your first off-cut. Can you tell us what it’s called, when it was written and what genre it was written for?

Yes. So the first one is Bump, which was a script I wrote that was made into a mini pilot. I did this about four years ago for Channel 4 with the brilliant Kathryn Parkinson in it. And yeah, it got turned down. Bummer.

Interior Motel Diner, afternoon. Charlie and Gemma are eating in a grim-looking diner.

I’m just saying we mustn’t count our chickens before they’ve been artificially inseminated. It might be better to think of this as a holiday. Try to have fun. And if we come back with a baby-shaped souvenir, then that’s a bonus. Don’t you think?

No, I don’t.

Suddenly, Lily, Californian, 20s, in touch with every single emotion she’s ever had, descends on them.

Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. It’s so good to see you. I’m so happy you’re here.

She hugs Gemma for a long time and keeps talking.

This is literally the most exciting day of my life. I don’t ever want to let go of you. Let’s just stay like this forever, like Siamese twins. We don’t say that, do we, conjoined? I saw this amazing documentary about Siamese twins joined at the forehead. And one was also kind of a dwarf, so she had to be pushed around backwards on a trolley. It was so inspiring, and they were so different, you know? One was into thrash metal, and the other one was a cheerleader or something. Is this Charles? Can I call you Charles?

She lets go of Gemma and hugs Charlie.

I’m gonna call you Charles. I’m so happy to meet you. We’re gonna make beautiful babies together. My ovaries are singing. Do you know what I mean? Like I can actually feel my actual ovaries. It’s chemistry. My womb is like so receptive right now. Can I get a Caesar salad, but with the chicken on the side and also no Parmesan, but extra anchovies?

Charlie is confused, but a passing waitress takes the order. Lily sits in Charlie’s seat.

I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up. Nothing, literally nothing, would have kept me from picking you up. But my boyfriend had an accident and I was in the ER with him.

Boyfriend?

I thought you were single. I was.

I always will be, in a way. But I met this guy. He’s amazing. You’ll love him. He’s parking the car. But is he? Don’t worry. He’s totally on board. He will not distract me from my goal, our goal. Two women coming together to make a baby. It’s actually very empowering.

I’m sort of involved too.

Totally. I’m just here to serve like a serf. They did this in biblical times. Did you know that? This is biblical. It feels biblical. Shall we get outside?

Interesting subject matter. Was that your idea or Channel 4’s?

This was actually inspired by my friend, who was one of the producers on it, Stevie. She had a child by surrogate. She was telling me that it’s actually illegal in this country. Is it? Gosh. People do do it, but if it goes wrong, there’s nothing you can do about it. Basically, the surrogate can come and get their baby, as it were, anytime they want. So if you want to do it in a sort of above board contractual way, you have to, I think most British people go to either India or America. And so this really fascinated me, A, because I sort of had some trouble having children and understood the kind of madness you can go into when you want something so much and biology won’t cooperate. And then also because I’ve spent a lot of the last eight years in the States for work, I was very aware of the cultural differences and thought it would be interesting.

So it’s legal in America then definitely?

Yeah, it’s legal in America. And so quite often British people go there. And I just thought it was kind of like a funny area for a comedy, but also with, you know, you can’t really get higher stakes than a human life. So that seemed like a good subject.

And you said, as you introduced it, that Catherine Parkinson was in the pilot that got made.

Yeah.

And I believe the other English performer is a deal actor, is that right?

Yeah, he’s great. Yeah, a deal actor. And then the American surrogate was Amber Tamblyn, who was brilliant.

So was the whole series going to take place in America, or were they going to come back and be pregnant or expecting over here?

They were going to stay in America for the first season. Yeah. And so, yeah, they’re kind of, I mean, it’s pretty traditional sort of ideas, but, you know, fish out of water. And although in that scene, I was being, it could have sounded like I was being a bit hard on Americans, that actually it comes from a place, I think, really of being a sort of classic, repressed British middle-class person, and then suddenly being exposed to all these Americans who are so emotionally eloquent and good at expressing all their emotions. And actually, I think I’m a bit harder actually on the British people than I am on the Americans, because I sort of love just how open they are. I’m terrified by it, and I kind of love it as well.

So the entire cast, apart from those two, would be American and it would be set in America. So sort of like episodes, the Matt LeBlanc one? That sort of feel.

Exactly. Yeah, or catastrophe, but in America, as it were.

Right. And had you planned like a four season arc, or is it just, because presumably at some point, the baby has to be born and then what happens?

Yeah. Well, I had various incredibly ambitious ideas.

A whole family tree, generations.

Yes. Well, there’s so many interesting things about surrogacy. One is, particularly in the States, because so many people do do it, that there are some sort of support groups for the surrogates and also for what they call IPs, the intended parents. That would be a good way of meeting other people going through it. Obviously, there are lots of reasons people need a surrogate. It could be that it’s two dads or that there’s some fertility issue or that there’s some genetic issues. But also the reasons that people have surrogates is really fascinating. Obviously, because it’s legal, it’s a financial thing in the States. But I discovered when we were doing the research, we found that like in army bases, huge numbers of the wives would be surrogates because their husbands were away for such a long time.

And you mean like it gave them something to do?

Well, it sort of gave them something to do without them having to get a job because they move around so much, it’s hard for them to get jobs. So they thought, I can earn money, I can stay at home, my husband’s away and the husbands thought that it would keep them faithful. So I had this whole idea that we kind of, the first series is this first baby and there’s lots of, we worked out all these kind of ups and downs that this couple go through with their surrogate. And then we thought that the second season, there was sort of an option of either sort of doing it again with a completely different surrogate or the surrogate coming to England, you know, kind of better the devil, you know, kind of thing. Or there’s another option where you sort of follow all the surrogates you’ve met in the support group and all the intended parents you’ve met in their support group and sort of follow lots of little stories. But yeah, it’s one of those ones where I still think, oh, you know, that’s a fun idea.

And so you’ve got so much potential, the way you’ve just explained it, I’m thinking, oh, I could totally see that. Now I was going to ask you because the transatlantic cast there reflects sort of on your career, I suppose, because I know you started in British comedy and you had been transported to America to work on things like Veep and Avenue Five more recently, the last eight years. And of course, Succession, was that a move you planned? Had you always thought, oh, what I’d really like to do is write for American comedies because they are rather good?

No, I mean, it didn’t ever occur to me that that was a possibility. I thought I’d be at home in my pyjamas for my entire career. And yeah, so I did the thick of it with Armando, which was a wonderful experience. And then he, of course, did the American version, to put it crudely, which was called Veep. And so, yeah, I got to work on that. And that was absolutely that was just so exciting. I couldn’t believe that I was working on an American show.

And you were actually in America when you were writing it.

No, we were all here. Yeah, for the first four seasons of Veep, it was all British writers, all writing from home. But we filmed in Baltimore in the winter. And it is bitterly cold in Baltimore in the winter. And all the writers, actors, crew, everyone were in this one hotel together. And I suppose it was a bit like being in a touring rep group, because we were all homesick and we didn’t have anyone else to see. So we just spent every minute of every day with each other, which I think means we were much closer than lots of, often writers don’t particularly know actors or get to spend time with them. And so that was absolutely wonderful. It was really fabulous, sort of everyone kind of bonding and, but it was just, I mean, I only went obviously to Baltimore for filming kind of on and off, but I remember the first time I went away, I was going for like five days and I had to explain to my children, you know, I’m going away for work and they were like, but you haven’t got a job. And I was like, I have, and they’re like, you should get a job. And I was like, no, I have got one. And they were like, lots of people have jobs. You might like it. And I was like, no, I promise you, I have got, you know, that thing you see me doing on my computer. And they were like playing solitaire. I was like, no, the other thing you see me doing on my computer. That is my job. So, yeah, it was a bit of a shock to the system to go away. And then what happened is that after four seasons, Armando left to sort of focus on, because he had spent so much time over there. So he left to do stuff he could film in the UK. And it was taken over by an American showrunner and then had an American writer’s room. And I continued on it. So that was just mind blowing to suddenly find myself in LA at Paramount Studios. So they had to ship the Oval Office from Baltimore to LA and everything else. And yeah, all the writers were in this huge office. And suddenly I was in a room with like 12 of my heroes who had written all my favourite shows, like Simpsons and Seinfeld and Friends and everything, all my favourite things. And it was very nerve wracking, but incredibly exciting.

I’ve always meant to ask, because I loved Veep. And yet, as I bored my children going, that person’s British, shut up, mom, we’re just watching. But I was still amazed at how many British names I recognise from the writing team. How do the series is literally about the most American thing possible, the American political institutions. How does an English team of writers get to write stuff that sounds so absolutely spot-on, believably American? I’m sure it must be because obviously it was played to an American audience. Did you have like an advisor in there who goes, no, no, we Americans say it like this? You would never believe it was basically an English team or certainly the majority started. How did you achieve that?

Well, I mean, I didn’t.

Well, you must have done because you wrote some of the episodes.

Well, so when I first started on the thick of it, on my very first day when I arrived, Armando said to me, right, so we’re doing this episode where there’s an inquiry and, you know, the vibe I’m going for is sort of less chill cot, more leveson. And I just sort of the color drained from my face. And I just thought I just about recognized the word leveson. But I thought chill cot was a delightful spa where you could get lovely massages. And we were filming in this abandoned office block in Walton-on-Thames with no Wi-Fi. So I couldn’t even Google, what the hell is chill cot and leveson? So I did, I literally remember looking out the window and thinking, shall I just run and keep running and never come back? But I just thought, OK, well, I understand the word inquiry. And I understand that that would be frightening for these characters. And I’m frightened, so I can channel that into it, channel the fear and terror. So what started as like living an anxiety dream actually ended as a really nice experience because I thought, well, all the characters will be scared, but also they’ll all be lying. And I think you often get to a character’s truth when you write them lying. So this is a very long way of saying, I didn’t particularly know about British politics. So the fact that I didn’t know about American politics was fine. And somehow Armando just knows everything about American politics. So he kept us on the straight now. Of course, we did have consultants. I think, you know, Armando and then the other showrunner took over, Dave Mandel, who was a politics expert. They didn’t know what they were doing, thank God. But I thought we were making it up. I thought we were exaggerating wildly. And then I had this insane experience where I had the opportunity to go to the White House when Obama was president. And what was terrifying was walking around the West Wing and everyone saying, oh, my God, it’s so accurate. It’s so accurate. You sort of think, no, but I don’t want it to be. I want it to be wildly exaggerated. This is horrifying.

I’m not surprised that they would have said that actually. I mean, it is a little bit terrifying when you think that someone like Selena could have her finger on the… well, it would have been terrifying until Donald Trump came along, obviously. There’s a whole new level of terror now.

Yeah, that’s, you know, it’s not the worst thing he did, but he did put an end to V because…

It’s not the worst thing he did. No, that’s true.

But, you know, our fictional president was sort of venal and ruthless and selfish and monstrous and horrible and a liar, but she had a sense of shame and she was punished if she did something wrong. And suddenly overnight, both those things seemed incredibly twiggy and old-fashioned and we sort of had to hang up our pens and say, well, yeah, life has trumped us. Literally, we better stop this because we seem out of date, you know, literally overnight.

A bit tamed by comparison to reality. On that depressing note. Well, let’s move on and have another off-cut. Tell us about this one.

Well, this is a piece of recorder music I wrote when I was about six or seven, which was published as George’s tune.

I want you to know that just in case you thought that was played by a professional recorder player, if there is such a thing, that was literally me on my childhood recorder, the actual one I learnt to play on when I was at primary school.

That’s excellent. Were you literally doing it just then?

Yes, well, no, I recorded it because I could have cocked it up. Or you’re basically implying that I could have put better production on it or something. It was quite loud.

I thought you just sort of casually just pulled out your recorder and just done it live in a sort of exciting MTV unplugged way.

Oh, good God, no. So tell us about George’s tune.

Well, yes, I mean, what a melancholic piece of music that was. Well, I went to this very extraordinary school, sort of hippie school in the 70s that wouldn’t be allowed to exist these days, primary school, where you only had to go in if you felt it was right for you to go in that day. And we basically sort of expressed ourselves through finger painting and rolled around and did plasticine. But we didn’t sort of do lessons or learn anything because that’s wrong. And we called all the teachers by their first name and one of them, Howard, would drive me home on the back of his motorbike.

What?

Another one, Jean, would send me out to buy her cigarettes. That was the closest I got to a maths lesson was going to buy her cigarettes and coming back with the right change. And every so often, Henry, the headmaster, would sort of gather us into a room and either teach us about the plague or triangles or more often how to write a haiku. He seemed very determined we should master the Japanese short form of poetry, if nothing else. And really, we did learn nothing else. But the music teacher was this great woman called Margot Fagan, I think, and I think she was quite sort of famous at the time. And hilariously, her son was in… This is such a 70s anecdote. Her son was in ELO. He was the one with the white cello, I think.

Oh, wow.

So at our excruciating school concerts, there’d be me on my recorder and a few people on their squeaky violins, and then her son on his white cello. So, yeah, you are in good company there with playing that tune.

So this school you were sent to, were your parents very sort of freewheeling hippie types then?

Yeah, they were really. And we lived in this square and all the sort of kids hung out all day every day, and they all went there. And it was sort of full of actors and writers and artists’ children. I think Paul McCartney’s stepdaughter maybe went there and various other RT types.

Sounds very expensive.

No, it was a state school. It just wouldn’t be allowed these days. I know it was a state school, very small school. And, you know, it was brilliant. And, I mean, I am still incredibly ignorant, but what I would say is, you know, my mind is uncluttered by facts. But I, you know, I loved writing even at that age. So all I did was write stories. And maybe that helped, or maybe that helped me realize that I had no other skills that I could rely on. So writing really was the only option. But yeah, I had a fantastic time there.

And presumably the rest of your childhood was as free and easy. Would you say you had a good and happy childhood? Sounds like you had a great childhood.

Yeah, that was great. And that sadly, the secondary school was a bit tougher because I went to, I lived in Elephant and Castle. So that great primary school was in the Barbican, which was just being built at the time. And then I went to secondary school in Deptford, and it was pretty tough. So that wasn’t so easy. And a bit of, you know, suddenly I had to like wear a uniform and have lessons and learn things. It was a real shock to the system. Call teachers by their surname and go in, even if I didn’t feel it was right for me to go in that.

So how did you do that once your actual academic skills were being challenged? Did it turn out that you were quite academic or not really?

Well, I was a little bit behind having never done any lessons. And certainly it was the type of atmosphere where it wasn’t good to be doing too well. It was good. Your best bet was to be invisible or develop a sense of humor to sort of deflect any potential problems that might come your way. So, yeah, I learned.

Which did you do?

A bit of both. I learned a different set of skills at that school. So it was sort of a big contrast between the two schools. But I continued writing. Oh, that was the… This is my sort of Angela’s Ashes moment, as if having to go to school wasn’t bad enough. You know, really, the only thing I could do was write stories. And when I did my English homework, the teacher would give me detention because he thought I was plagiarizing. No! Because I was not good at anything else. And then there was this one thing I could do. So any, that’s what I mean, any kind of spark of ability was squashed either by your fellow pupils or by your teachers. So, yeah, I sort of carried on writing as a sort of act of defiance, which I think has held me in good stead, because, as I mentioned in my book, I really have had a lot of terrible reviews for things I’ve written. And I think that sort of, well, I’m going to write in spite of you, is sort of a good way of carrying on and developing a thick skin.

Right, time for another offcut now. Can you tell us about the next one, please?

OK, well, so this is a one woman cabaret show, which I wrote around about 20 years ago, called Dead Divas.

We are in a shabby bedside full of memorabilia. There are posters of singers all over the walls, records and CDs scattered all over the floors. The fan is sitting on her bed, flicking through her scrapbooks, listening to the radio as it plays a Billie Holiday song. Various Billie Holiday songs play throughout.

I’ve always been a big, big fan of music. Really, I have. I think it was on my 16th birthday that I got my very first restraining order due to a small misunderstanding with Miss Billie Holiday. I’d worship Billie Holiday for years. I’d got all her records. I’d been to all her concerts. I had her posters all over my room. Then finally I got to meet her by a complete coincidence. She was going through her backyard at the same time as I was going through her rubbish. I didn’t stick around for long. She was a big girl, over 200 pounds by the time she was 18, and I was eight stone in my stocking feet, ten stone with my shoes on. I felt like Billie completely understood me. I’ve spent some time in institutions and so had Billie. When she was ten, she was sent away to a Catholic institution for wayward girls. Later, when working as a prostitute, she was sent to jail for refusing to have sex with a client. Then she got banged up a third time for heroin possession. It was at this point that I hatched a brilliant plan for spending more time with my idol. Commit a crime and become her cellmate. The very next morning I held up my local bank. Unfortunately, due to a series of unforeseen and tragic circumstances, I accidentally got away with $7 million. It was one of the worst days of my life. Billy and I were to remain apart for the duration of her sentence. I spent those long months pining for Billy and being treated for a minor personality disorder. I was totally devoted to Billy. I’ll never forget the day that I had Billy Holiday Forever tattooed on my arm, because that was the day she died. She was 44. I was inconsolable. No one could ever replace Billy. Nobody. Except perhaps the little girl from Little Rock.

The Marilyn Monroe song Little Girl from Little Rock runs under the next dialogue. Marilyn Monroe.

Norma Jean. The candle in the wind. Who could not love her? The whole world loved her, but not as much as I did. I loved her the most. Yes, I did. She was everything I wanted to be. Beautiful, sexy, and only on 13 different types of tranquilizer.

Was any of this based on truth, as in, obviously not the psychopathically extreme behavior, but I mean the obsession or at least the fandom? Were you that sort of a person?

I mean, I was very into Adamant as a teenager.

Not quite the same thing.

I think I just realized that seven women singers that I liked had died very young.

Right.

So I’m trying to remember my own script now. So it was Billie Holiday, Marilyn Monroe, Patsy Cline, Alma Cogan, Mama Cass, Janis Joplin, and Karen Carpenter. And I just had this idea that there was this sort of unfortunate stalker who kept losing her idols. And then at the end, there’s a sort of twist where it suggested that she’s unwittingly contributed to each of their deaths.

Oh, God, that’s such a good idea.

So, yeah, it just seemed like, I don’t know, I think I was perhaps had experienced a bit of unrequited love and thought that was a sort of good vehicle and also a great opportunity to have some fantastic songs in it. So, yes, so you get a sort of two or three songs of each of these incredible women. And I just thought it was an interesting way to comment on stardom and how difficult it is to be a famous anyone, but particularly, I think, a famous woman, and particularly, you know, in time gone by. And then also that sort of the kind of poignancy, I think, of when people just become besotted with someone that they will never really meet or get to know or, you know, I think that’s very sad and all too common. But yeah, it was a fun thing to write.

So did you write it for yourself at all? I know you’re not really a performer, but you weren’t 20 years ago. You had performing aspirations.

No, absolutely not. Gosh, I’ve gone hot and cold just thinking about it then. No, it did a few days at the German Street Theatre and later Tracy Almond was sort of interested in it because of course she’s a great singer. But I think there’s issues because you’re using existing music and copyright and all that. Most of these people are American. Yeah, exactly. But it was interesting because I had written some stand up then. So it was interesting to sort of do a monologue and create this character.

Sorry, you said you’d written some stand up for yourself?

No, no, no, for other stand ups.

Yeah. Oh, I see.

Yeah.

Well, so you wrote this 20 years ago. At that point, had you been to university?

Yes. Oh, yes.

So what did you study? Did you do comedy at university at all?

No, I didn’t.

Even if you weren’t performing at writing for anyone else?

No, no. I mean, I think I had been writing quite a while by the time I did this. I think I just love writing. So I do it whether someone’s asking me to or begging me not to. I just do it, you know, whether someone’s paying me or commissioning me, I just do it all the time. And I think that’s, you know, you learn so much every time you write something. So that was just something I did. No one wanted me to do it, but I enjoyed it. And, you know, I always knew I wanted to be a writer, but I also knew that I couldn’t write novels because I’m no good at prose. I don’t know enough adjectives. I hate describing things. I always feel I don’t know what the sunset looked like. You decide.

So were you writing plays at this point or did you go straight to comedy?

So I knew I couldn’t be a journalist because I don’t care about facts, you know, that’s less important these days. So it was actually my mum that pointed out that I had a very irritating habit of sort of watching lots of comedy shows and sketch shows and stand up and then memorizing sort of huge chunks and reciting them and what apparently was quite an annoying way. So that made me think, oh yeah, dialogue, maybe dialogue is the thing. So I started, as so many people did, at Weekending, which was that Radio 4 show that used to be on about the week’s news that anyone could send stuff in to. So I guess I started with comedy sketch shows. So that sort of led to Spitting Image and Smith and Jones. And then that sort of led to some stand ups like Joe Brand and Rory Bremner and Lenny Henry and the lovely Ronnie Corbett. And then that led on to narrative comedy like the sitcoms. So I did write some sort of comedy plays for radio, but yeah, I just, I’ve always enjoyed cabaret shows and musicals. So I just thought I’d have a go.

So you went to university and then you went straight into writing or did you have to have a proper jump first?

No, I just, yeah, as soon as I left, I turned up at week ending with a lot of homeless people who were wanting to get warm in this room in the BBC. And yes, I managed after a few weeks, I sold a joke for eight pounds and I never looked back. So yeah.

That’s your origin story and a very fine one. Okay, let’s have your next off cut now. What’s this one?

Well, this is possibly a terrible mistake and I certainly haven’t finished. This is called Gay for the Stay, which is a rap musical I started to write, because obviously that’s what I should be doing. I started this in about 2016 and have yet to finish it. And it’s basically, my idea was private lives, but in an all-men’s prison. So instead of it being two couples, it’s two sort of previous roommates and they’d had relationships. There’s a phrase called Gay for the Stay where you have romantic relationships with another man for as long as you’re in prison. So yeah, that was the premise of this piece.

Know what I’ve learned from spending 15 years surrounded by thousands of men? They talk about their balls a lot. He’s got balls. He hasn’t got balls. He’s got big balls. He needs to grow a pair. Balls, balls, balls, balls. They have done a great PR job on balls because you know what else I know? Balls aren’t so great. Little shriveled specimens dangling around doing nothing. And if you kick them not even that hard, you can paralyze a man for an hour. I have made a man vomit by kicking him in the balls. I have made a man faint by kicking him in the balls. Balls are ugly. They’re tiny and they’re useless. If women had balls, we would not talk about them all the time. We probably wouldn’t even mention them. We’d be too embarrassed. We try to iron the creases out. But men, they talk about them all the time with pride. When I hear a man say, grow a pair, I think, don’t bother. Grow a womb instead. Grow something useful. Grow something impressive. Grow something miraculous. You think you’re hard, man? Get birth, motherfucker. Until you can do that, shut the fuck up about your teeny-tiny-scraggy-shrunken-withered-wrinkled-balls.

I feel sorry for your husband.

Don’t waste your time.

You even got a husband?

Yeah, I got one.

Thank Music there by Jake Yapp, I must give him credit for that.

I didn’t know you were going to actually do the rap.

But thanks to Jake Yapp, we were able to do that. So the story behind this, you explained what gave the stay meant. Did you have a particular star or cast in mind for this when you started writing it?

Not really. I just had always thought that private lives was such a brilliant idea, but also quite disturbing because it’s pretty violent and some really upsetting scenes and it all seemed to make much more sense if it was set in a male prison. So that part was the only woman prison guard, and maybe subconsciously I was expressing my feelings about being the only woman in the room for 25 years.

Yes, good point. You never made a similar speech like that about testicles to your writing cohort at all.

No, I did not. I hope I don’t get in trouble for that. I think they’re excellent. I’m a big fan of them.

Balls or the writers?

Balls. Well, both. Got a lot of time for both. So yeah, it was amazing how that idea of two people who’d had a relationship sort of suddenly being thrown together again in these kind of confined circumstances and all the sort of jealousy and passion and doubt. And I just felt like it kind of worked really well.

You don’t remember the moment where you thought, do you know what, I’m going to do this. Do you remember what it was that this particular thing that inspired you? It seems very specific.

It does. I think in an odd, I don’t know what happened, but in middle age, I got very into rap music and very into Eminem. And just, I mean, maybe it’s from my haiku writing past, but I just so love the kind of rap music and the lyrics. They did this sort of survey that the two singers who use the widest vocabulary of anyone by a mile are Bob Dylan and Eminem. And so I, yeah, I don’t know what I was my sort of midlife crisis was getting into rap and maybe it was a lot of inner rage. And yeah, I keep, as you can see, I keep flirting with the sort of musical form.

Yes, this is by far and away, the most musical episode we have ever had.

And since then, I did a sort of musical adaptation of The Snow Queen that was for theatre in Southampton and then in Northampton. And I did another sort of musical thing about fairy tales.

And then did you write the lyrics, the lyrics and the music? How did that work?

Yeah, I wrote the lyrics, not the music. I’m completely unmusical, but I wrote the lyrics and the book, as we say. And at the moment, I am working with Grayson Perry and Richard Thomas, who did the music for Jerry’s Bringer, the opera, on a musical about Grayson Perry’s life. So maybe I will finally get to scratch this itch that I’ve had a long time to create a musical, be part of a musical. Right.

Well, let’s move on to the next off cut. Can you tell us about this one, please?

So this is a TV script I wrote, which is called Legs, which I wrote for a fantastic actress called Katie Sullivan.

Exterior, bus stop.

Marty is still sitting at the bus stop. A driving school car approaches with Marty’s sister Virginia in the passenger seat and a nervous teenage boy in the driving seat. Virginia is a large woman in her 30s. She’s short tempered, blunt, darkly pessimistic. The window rolls down.

Don’t call me that.

Sorry, Vag.

What is it?

How are you?

I am not an Uber.

I know that. Just wanted some quality sister time.

You look like shit.

Thank you.

Your legs are all showing.

And your personality is all showing.

I’m busy. What do you want? From life.

From me.

Marty wonders whether to lie and then decides to come clean.

I feel like a bag of smashed assholes and I’m late to work.

Get in.

Interior, driving school car. Marty is sitting in the back. The teenage driver, Sanjeev, is very nervous and the car lurches slowly along. It’s like a cat licked my eyeballs.

Hey, step on it, will you?

Sorry.

Don’t listen to her.

Sorry. How’s mom?

Dead.

You’ve got to stop saying that. One day it’ll be true.

It is true.

How’s mom?

Her dying words were, You’re my favorite child, Virginia.

How’s mom?

Annoying.

Thank you. You should really move out.

You think? But then I miss all the fun when she sues Hotpockets.

She’s suing Hotpockets?

She loves Hotpockets.

Why is she suing Hotpockets?

I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. She’s going to get 65 million dollars.

Happy for her.

Marty looks out of the window. Sorry.

What’s your name?

Sanjeev.

Can you get a wiggle on?

I could literally walk faster than this and…

She gestures to her legs. Sorry.

Ignore her.

The legs go click click.

And them.

Sanjeev, take a right here.

No, go straight.

Take a right.

Do not take a right.

Sanjeev, take a right.

Sanjeev turns right and meets several cars head on, narrowly missing them.

It’s no right turn. Sorry. Okay, get out.

Sanjeev starts to get out.

Not you.

You.

Oh, come on.

Get out.

How am I gonna get to work?

I don’t care. Get Josh to take you.

Yeah, we had a big fight.

What happened?

We flash back to 48 hours earlier.

This piece was written for a particular actress. Can you tell us about it and her?

Yes. So I saw her on stage in London and she was just absolutely fantastic. And it was one of those experiences where you see someone and think, I want to write for that person. They’re so brilliant. She’s called Katie Sullivan. I got to know her and she was born without legs. So she gets around on these super cool high tech robotic prosthetics. And so we sort of talked really about her life and what it’s like to be an American with a disability. And so I wrote this script called legs for her to be in. And a lot of it is based on her. She’s such an amazing person. And just we were sort of talking the other day, she has kind of all the disadvantages of celebrity in that wherever she goes, people stare at her or want their photo taken with her or hand her their baby, which is very unwise because as she says, walking on prosthetics is like walking on stilts. But she, you know, none of the pros because she doesn’t get lots of money or fancy tables at fancy restaurants or anything. And also it’s very difficult financially to have a disability in America. And well, I mean, there’s so many aspects to this show. And one of the sort of sweetest things, which is based on Katie, is that she has this huge collection of shoes. She absolutely loves shoes as sort of works of art. So she collects beautiful shoes and she’s trying to get prosthetic legs designed so they can cope with wearing amazing shoes. Because generally speaking, they come with a shoe attached, or you just have to wear very sort of basic shoes. And so, yeah, we wanted to write something that was kind of funny, but showed the sort of difficulties she’s experienced. And yeah, I think of all the things we’ve been discussing, this is the one that I kind of think, oh, this is the right time for this. You know, we need to see a show like this, people not seeing themselves on television. You know, there are one billion people in the world with a disability, and we certainly do not see many on our TV screens.

Yeah, it does feel like it might be a good time for this show right now. So is it a series?

Yeah, it’s a series. And we had the whole sort of season worked out. We had the wonderful Sam Miller who directed I May Destroy You on board. And so, yeah, I mean, they’re still, we’re still not getting anywhere. I think, you know, in terms of the American market, you know, she’s not famous. And this is the problem. If you have a disability, all she’s ever been able to play are soldiers who had their legs blown off. And so you don’t get famous like that. And so then people don’t trust you to be a lead in a TV show. So, yeah, we’re still trying because I think it’s it would be a great show. Her and her sister and there’s this great mum character and really taking a pretty honest look at what it’s like in the states these days with all those issues that we’ve been discussing. But, you know, funny, really funny, because she’s so funny.

Well, it’s certainly not a story that we’ve seen a sitcom cover before. But this is set in America starring a specific American actress and presumably will be cast with other American actors. So are you now working mainly in America now? Have you sort of moved over to America? Because apart from Succession, you’re also the show runner on a brand new series called The Shrink Next Door, which has a spectacularly high profile, impressive cast, including Will Ferrell and Paul Rudd.

Yes, Will Ferrell and Paul Rudd and the marvellous Katherine Hahn. And yeah, that was, I mean, I’m not, I live in London. I would love to work here more, but the work keeps coming from America. That was a really fun project. And the first time I’d been a show runner and it was written during lockdown. So I had a virtual writers room, which meant less time talking about what we were going to have for lunch, which is really the only point of being a writer. So that was a shame. But it did mean that I sort of had writers from all over the world because we were all just in our rooms on Zoom. And it was a really lovely experience. I really enjoyed it. It was scary and a learning curve, but it was it was a really positive experience.

I mean, I know you’ve written for high powered people before and worked with what I call high powered anyway, but showrunner is like you’re the boss of everybody and you have to make all the decisions from being a writer who makes certain creative decisions, but certainly doesn’t have that kind of responsibility when things go wrong. How did you find that shift?

It’s a huge jump. Yes, I think, you know, certainly in the UK, you sort of do your script and then you hand it over and they don’t necessarily want to ever see you again. So to then suddenly be showrunner, which is really sort of a fancy word for a producer, I suppose, in that you hire everyone and yeah, are in charge of everything. I mean, it’s actually, I think, a job that’s pretty impossible to do well because you need to know about costume and music and editing and lighting.

That’s you now. That’s who you are. Will you be showrunning more stuff? Is your status now shifted from writer to showrunner?

I would like to do a bit of both. I do love being a writer. I love working on succession and, you know, there’s people I love working with. But there are a couple of other things that I will showrun. I think I thought that it might involve a lot of confrontation and yelling, which is not my forte. But, you know, I discovered that it didn’t. If everyone feels appreciated and seen and respected, there’s very little yelling involved. So that was really a fantastic experience.

And working with Will Ferrell and Noel Coward.

Yeah.

But it’s not actually a comedy, is that right?

No, I have a special gift for sucking all the joy from anything I’m involved with. And so I said to them on day one, there must be no jokes or laughing or pleasure on this set. Unfortunately, they didn’t listen. So there are some jokes and a little bit of pleasure. But I think it’s, you know, Will, I mean, I’ve always been a fan of his, but I think this is the best thing he’s ever done because I don’t think I’d appreciated what an incredible actor he is. And in this, he delivers this extraordinary, subtle and nuanced performance that is utterly heartbreaking. And it really took me by surprise. And I think it will take people watching by surprise. It’s really an incredible thing. He’s amazing.

I’m really looking forward to it. Sounds brilliant. But we must move on now because we’ve come to your final off cut. What are we about to hear on this one?

Well, this is a short story, very short story that I wrote around two or three years ago. And it’s called Moon.

January 1960. Had a great idea to fake a moon landing. Think it will really raise morale and inspire hope and patriotic pride among the American people. Met with a top Hollywood writer, Jimmy Kimball. He’s on board and super excited. Explained to him that what we need is a couple of snappy lines for the astronaut to deliver as he steps onto the moon. Jimmy said he’d deliver something next week. February. No script yet, but met with Jimmy who said he had a new idea. What about if the space module crashes onto the moon and the whole moon explodes? I explained that wasn’t really what we were looking for. Jimmy looked hurt and said he was just trying to inject some drama into the story. I said I thought man landing on the moon was dramatic enough. Jimmy said it’d get me something next week. March. No script yet, but Jimmy has had another idea. What if the astronauts get out and get into a fight? I explained that wasn’t really what we were looking for. Drama needs conflict, Jimmy insisted. I explained again that this was really an exercise to raise morale, etc. and that we really just need a couple of snappy lines of dialogue. Jimmy said he’d get me something next week. April. No script yet, Jimmy is having some marital issues. May. Jimmy has produced a script. I read it with excitement. He’s written a two-page speech in which the astronaut steps onto the moon and announces he’s divorcing his wife because she’s been having an affair with the other astronaut. I explained that wasn’t really what we were looking for. Jimmy pitched that maybe the wife realizes her mistake and realizes the other guy is a total asshole and gets back with the astronaut. He said he was trying to give the astronaut a journey. I suggested that the 270,000 mile journey to the moon was enough journey and what we really wanted was a couple of lines of snappy dialogue. August. Jimmy has had some issues with his typewriter ribbon, so no script yet. December. Jimmy says the script is almost finished. He’s just waiting for more paper. January 1961. Jimmy says he’s not getting paid enough for two whole lines of snappy dialogue. He’ll deliver one line. February. Jimmy says he’s halfway through the line. He should be finished next week. March. Jimmy handed in a new script. It’s a couple of lines of snappy dialogue delivered by an alien who’s just eaten the astronaut and the space module. I explained that wasn’t really what we were looking for. April. I’ve decided to kill the project. I think it’s going to be easier to get some scientists to build an actual rocket and actually fly to the actual moon.

That was our impression of JFK. For anybody who wondered why he spoke like that.

I should have said at the top it’s JFK’s diary. So yes, a little dig at writers there. A little bit of self-loathing creeping out.

It actually reminded me of a Bob Newhart sketch. One of those. Have you heard Bob Newhart?

Yeah, yeah.

He does all those phone conversations. Now this is the only prose that you sent. I’m entirely convinced that is actually prose. I know you say it’s a short story, but to me it sounds like a comedy sketch. I mean, performed by a JFK thing, like in the style of Bob Newhart.

Drat, you’ve spotted. And my book is really not a book. It’s just a collection of scenes very badly described as a book.

Because you said at the beginning that you don’t do prose, you’re not very good at prose, you don’t like adjectives. But you have just published a book, My Mess is a Bit of a Life, with very short chapters.

They’re not really chapters.

So why did you write it? If prose isn’t your thing, what made you sit down and have to write it?

That’s an excellent question, Laura. I think it’s just a terrible lapse in judgment or lockdown madness. Yeah, it was suggested I do it, write a memoir, and I said in no uncertain terms, the one thing we can be very sure of in this life is that I will never, ever write a memoir. Oops. So yeah, I can’t quite believe it because I’m a very private person and I love the anonymity of being a scriptwriter and putting my words in other people’s mouths. So it is utterly horrifying to discover I’ve written something very personal and direct.

So if it’s something that horrifies you, revealing private bits of yourself, did you have another goal for this book?

No, I really didn’t. I think my agent, somewhere on the spectrum of encouraging, tricking, bullying, my agent did some combination of those things. And at first I sort of thought, oh yeah, you know, I write about my childhood. It was pretty eccentric and I’ll forget it soon if I don’t write it down. And then, you know, you start remembering things and one door opens another door. And before I knew it, I was just banging on about myself like a pub ball. But I also thought, you know, I think it’s easy as a comedy writer or just in life to sort of play certain roles. And I think as a comedy writer, you can often sort of feel, well, it’s my job to be happy and everything. So you don’t tend to own up to anything else. And I just thought, I’m old enough now. Maybe I should admit that I’m a neurotic mess rather than everything’s great. So, yeah, I just tried to, there’s scenes from a life really with a sort of theme running through it and hoping if it doesn’t sound too lofty and highfalutin. But, you know, maybe it might help other people because especially in these days of social media, it’s very easy to convince yourself everyone else is doing great and doing better than me. So, I hope it might help if there’s someone saying actually sometimes it’s hard and saying it in a funny way that doesn’t feel scary or threatening or preachy or self-helpy.

So, it started out as a sort of childhood memoir.

And then it does actually sort of come up pretty recent. While I was writing it, I read this really interesting thing that we only ever remember anything once. And after that, we just remember remembering it. So, in a sense, we’re all kind of writing our memoirs all the time in that we’re always kind of shaping our histories or our kind of anecdotes about our life. And I found that quite interesting. And I tried to be true to the sort of impressionistic nature of early memory where you don’t really get what’s going on. I didn’t want to imbue it with any sort of hindsight. And luckily, I’ve remained quite a confused person. So, it continues in that vein.

Well, you say that. We’ve just heard about you being a showrunner for two top Hollywood stars. I don’t think that’s going to cut it.

But it was interesting. I think it’s so easy to give ourselves a hard time. And funny enough, when you write down things that have happened, you do actually find a scrap of compassion for your younger self and think, oh, well, you know, I was doing my best. Perhaps I’m not the biggest idiot on this planet.

But do you now find that you are more comfortable with the idea of writing prose? Has it opened the door for you? Could you now become an author of novels or further memoir?

No, I definitely couldn’t, could never write a novel. I wouldn’t mind trying another.

Is it just the adjective problem?

It’s the adjective and the describing things are just too exhausting. But, you know, maybe if I can get away with this half-baked version of prose that I’ve done, that’s really just the scene in a different format. I would like to do some more of that because I did enjoy it in the end. So, yeah, it was really fun to do.

And the obvious question is, will it be televised? Will you be writing these lyrics?

Will culture eat itself?

Will the television writer who wrote her own memoir finally adapt it for television and the world will end?

Is that likely? I don’t think that’s going to happen. No, maybe Will Ferrell could play me. We have the same hair.

Okay, we have now come to the end of the show. How was it for you?

I must say this has been much less awful than I was expecting it to be.

How awful were you expecting it to be?

Just the thought of sitting down and talking about myself and my work for an hour did make me feel a bit sweaty and strange.

Well, you didn’t sound… you sounded marvellously confident and witty and erudite and all those things. So yes, we have come to the end of the show and it hasn’t been too terrible then I hope.

You can put that on your website. Not too terrible.

Not too terrible. Georgia Pritchett, showrunner. Well, thank you for sharing the contents of your off-cuts draw with us.

Thank you so much. It’s been really, really good.

The Offcuts Drawer was devised and presented by me, Laura Shavin, with special thanks to this week’s guest, Georgia Pritchett. The offcuts were performed by Beth Chalmers, Desiree Burch, Lizzie Roper, Jake Yapp, and Keith Wickham. And the theme music was by me, with additional music by Jake Yapp. For more details about this episode, visit offcutstraw.com. Thanks for listening.