Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #8

Sketch writing. It seems only fair that I discuss it this week, given the sad passing of the wonderful Eddie Braben – the man behind so many incredible Morecambe and Wise sketches.

Now, before we all get a little ahead of ourselves; I’m not placing myself in the same league as Mr. Braben, far from it. That would be the equivalent of walking onto the stage during a Led Zepplin concert, armed with a penny whistle and telling the lads to ‘take five’ while you have a little jam.

I am no Eddie Braben and I do not claim to be. Check my passport – it will categorically say Mr. Robert ‘Insert Middle Name Here’ Gilroy. The ‘Insert Name’-thing was one of my dad’s jokes when filling in the birth certificate. It wasn’t long before the divorce came through.

That is by-the-by. What I am saying is I would like to talk about sketch writing as I’m currently going through a period of increased activity in this area. “Why’s that?” I hear you cry. Well, first off, thanks for asking; secondly because next week is the third instalment of my Jolly Mixtures sketch night.

“Where’s that?” you ask. Well, thanks again for chipping in and, if you must know, it’s in Bradford, West Yorkshire. Saltaire – World Heritage Site – to be specific. “And what does this night entail?” You may be earnestly enquiring.

Look – if we’re going to keep doing this backwards and forwards thing it’s going to get tedious. Why not take it easy and let me explain it all to you and then if, at the end, you still have unanswered questions; pop your hand up and I will address them. So, next Wednesday sees the next Jolly Mixtures evening and, like the previous months, I find myself frantically thinking up, writing and rewriting sketches. It’s something I really enjoy and yet, something I find incredibly hard to get a grasp of.

For me, writing a sketch is a long and laborious process, like the first round of BBC One’s The Voice. And the semi-finals, come to that. And the rest. I sit and wait patiently for the ideas to come – I can sympathise with those two guys who waited for that Godot bloke to show up. No one likes being stood up, especially by your own imagination. It’s a waiting game, eventually something’s got to give and it’s either my brain’s desire to withhold inspiration or my bladder.

Occasionally I am struck by overwhelming inspiration and when that happens I can crack out a sketch in under forty minutes but I warn you; it’s a sordid and cheap affair. The instant thrill of writing a sketch quickly gives way to the dirty, squalid feeling you get once you read it back and realise the entire thing has as many jokes per page as the script for an Eastenders’ Christmas special. You feel like your own brain is using you as a piece of meat with a Bic.

Sometimes you can convince yourself of a truly genius idea – perhaps even the best idea anyone has ever had, anywhere in the world ever – before you realise that all you’ve done is regurgitate a Hale and Pace quickie, circa 1984. I once came up with the idea for the dead parrot sketch. I don’t mean before Monty Python did, I mean after. Well after. Like 2004.

I was trying to come up with an unusual sketch, something different. My thought process went something like this: a lot of sketches are set in shops so what is a genuine but unusual shop? A pet shop. What’s funny about a pet shop? What if someone was returning an animal because it’s faulty? Yeah, that’s a funny idea. Maybe it’s dead – ha, yes, a dead animal and the person is trying to return it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. What sort of animal is it? A dog? Too obvious. A lizard? Not quite right. A parrot? YES – that’s it! A man walks into a pet shop and tries to return a dead parrot. That’s the dead parrot sketch. Bugger.

Having read up on Mr. Braben, in interviews and the lovely obituaries that have been cropping up this week, what really stands out is that for him, sketch writing was a job. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way, that it’s just something he gets paid for. I mean that in order to meet the demand for material to fill every hour long episode of Morecambe and Wise, as well as their unmissable Christmas Specials (which, for the record, were much funnier than the previously mentioned Eastenders’ ones) he simply sat at his desk and wrote. That’s not to say that he never struggled to get an idea to come together, or that all those sketches flowed out of him like some sort of leaky, but talented, drain. I just mean that with perseverance and determination he wrote every one of those sketches and tonnes more besides. And that is definitely something I can learn from.

I can’t learn to be as brilliant as he was, they don’t teach that. They may do at Edge Hill University, but I don’t fancy forking out £9,000 for the privilege. I can only do as he did – write. Keep writing until the sketch is finished, then turn the page and start the next sketch. Write until all the sketches needed are written and then go back and rewrite every single one until it is perfect. When you put it like that it’s pretty straight forward.

There’s nothing wrong with waiting for inspiration to strike but funny ideas are like anything; if you want it enough you just have to keep looking in the right places. And stop re-alphabetising your DVD collection long enough to get it done.

Now, any questions?

Rob will be appearing at the third Jolly Mixtures sketch night at the Caroline Street Social Club, Saltaire, Wednesday 29^th May, 8:30pm, £3 in! Do come along.

RIP Eddie Braben.