The Stage

Waves of thought - Harry Venning on writing radio comedy

Published Thursday 24 December 2009 at 10:45

Hamlet cartoonist and Stage TV reviewer Harry Venning took a decade to get Clare in the Community, his first radio sitcom, broadcast. After launching a second show, Sneakiepeeks, this month, the ex-actor shares his tips with aspiring broadcast writers

Anyone considering a career writing comedy for radio should first find a writing partner. A good writing partner provides company, confidence, inspiration and Father Ted DVDs for when you can’t be arsed to do any writing. But, I hear you say, won’t a partner mean sharing the money? Yes, but here is the joy of radio - the pay is so miniscule you can easily cut it in half and not notice.

With David Ramsden, I have written five series of Clare in the Community, starring Sally Phillips, about a social worker whose insensitivity is matched only by her lack of awareness. With Neil Brand, I have just finished writing Sneakiepeeks, starring Nina Conti, following the adventures of an inept secret service surveillance unit. Radio 4 did not like the title originally, but warmed to it when we threatened to re-name the show The Buggers.

Sneakiepeeks is belligerently radiophonic, with characters holding conversations whilst they listen in on the conversations of others. There is also a stereophonic workshop full of sound effects thrown in for good measure, ranging from a humble fart to the sinking of a yacht.

The chances of a TV transfer are therefore negligible. But then, I’ve always thought that radio comedy is never improved by the move to television - On the Hour, People Like Us, I’m Alan Partridge, John Shuttleworth and even Chris Morris worked best in the audience’s imagination.

Sitcom, in particular, lends itself to radio far more than TV, where budgetary constraints and the demands of a live audience limit the action to however many sets can be crammed into a studio. Usually this means just three, with one almost invariably a semi-detached, suburban living room. Sneakiepeeks has already gone on location to the Cote D’Azur, the United Arab Emirates, Ceredigion, Eastbourne and Madame Tussauds.

For radio comedy writers, as with estate agents, location, location, location is paramount. Nothing sounds worse than two voices emerging from a black hole of nothingness. Setting scenes somewhere interesting fires the imagination of writer and listener alike, and helps structure the episode. Committing all the action to a single long scene can also work, provided you are Alan Bennett.

TV does have its advantages. Edit out all the lingering shots of Yorkshire from the 31 series of Last of the Summer Wine and you will be left with approximately three hours of comedy. Radio offers no such give and is unrelenting in its insatiable hunger for words, words, words. Reaching the requisite 5,500 words needed to fill 28 minutes of radio sitcom is a gruelling and demoralising task. If you want to feel better about your meagre day’s output, we’ve found that re-organising the gaps in the punctuation can boost the word count by almost 100, but ultimately it’s a hollow victory.

My friend Anil Gupta, an award-winning writer and producer in both mediums, and a man who has shamelessly stolen lines from Clare in the Community for his own scripts, once gave me the best definition of sitcom - telling a story through jokes. With more naturalistic comedy in vogue, the joke is currently regarded as something of a debased currency, but I personally feel that nothing beats a good punchline. Character, plot, atmosphere and story arcs can all be revealed through jokes. The trick is finding the right balance, so that they complement rather than dominate each other. It’s also labour intensive, but ultimately more satisfying.

At which point it is worth mentioning the conventional wisdom prevalent amongst Radio 4’s light entertainment department regarding the scheduling of comedy shows. The 11.30am slot has what they call a “lean to” audience, which imagines a listener with his/her ear to the radio, attention fully engaged, apart from the quilt he/she is darning. Such listeners can cope with more complicated, plot-driven comedies. At 6.30pm, the listener is besieged by a multitude of domestic chores and distractions, which limits their concentration to the occasional quick-fire joke, funny voice or impersonation. Which means sketch shows.

Before embarking upon a radio comedy script, it is worth considering this distinction and then ignoring it completely, as it is bollocks. Funny is funny at any time of the day.

• Sneakiepeeks, Tuesdays 6.30pm, BBC Radio 4