Years ago, someone had a brilliant idea. They’d get a big tent from somewhere, fill it with ovens and home cooks, and then run a low-stakes baking competition where people put in a lot of wholesome effort to see if they could make the nicest cake. Some family-friendly presenters would make gentle innuendo and hug contestants who dropped things on the floor. It’s still on TV and it’s still doing well.
What TV executives really like is more of the same. If you find a thing that works, and pulls in an audience, they want to produce more TV exactly like that. So after the Great British Bake Off, you got the Great British Sewing Bee (pitch: like the Bake Off, but people are sewing things), the Great British Pottery Throwdown (pitch: like the Bake Off, but people are making pottery), the Great British Menu (pitch: like the Bake Off, but for main courses), Interior Design Masters (pitch: like the Bake Off, but for making rooms look tasteless), and now Kirstie’s Handmade Christmas (pitch: like the Bake Off, but with Christmas decorations).
I reckon I could have a go at this crap as well. First thing tomorrow I’m marching into Channel 4’s headquarters, demanding a meeting with the boss and giving him my snappy pitches for these shows, now in development:
The Great British Veg Patch
Like the Bake Off, but for growing vegetables. A really slow, relaxing watch, since a single challenge takes the contestants all year. Most of their time is spent sitting in their potting sheds waiting for the rain to ease off. In the showstopper challenge they have to present their most humorously-shaped root vegetable. Hosted by Scott Mills.
The Great British Drag Race
Like the Bake Off, but for racing noisy muscle cars over very short distances. Has nothing to do with drag queens. The grotty, macho world of drag racing will be made softer, cuddlier and more family friendly by having the drag races happen inside a big tent on a giant gingham tablecloth. Hosted by Matt Hancock.
The Great British Steel Works
Like the Bake Off, but for producing industrial grade steel from iron ore. Contestants race to turn out neatly shaped ingots of pure steel at white hot temperatures while trying not to set the tent alight. Before each challenge, lovingly-drawn colour sketches of the precise cubes of steel each contestant plans to make will be shown on screen. Hosted by Lorraine Kelly.
I’m pretty sure this is my path to fame and fortune. If you want in on it, pitch me your Great British rip off ideas in the comments and I’ll see if I want you in on the meeting.
9 comments on “Great British programme pitches”
All of these are million dollar ideas, mate. You should be huddling them to your bosom rather than offering them for free on the street corner like a common tart.
They’re not for free. If you start hawking these around the Channel 5 offices, my crack legal team will sue you for every pound, penny and pair of trousers you own.
One, I don’t have that many pairs of trousers and, two, you’re the one flabbing your mouth all over London. Zip it, Christopher.
I said “every pair of trousers”. If you don’t have that many, are you telling me you don’t own any trousers at all?
Must we face the horrifying possibility that your much-feared Fluffy Pants are actually borrowed or leased from someone else?
I wear trosers. They’re like trousers but different. Only those in the know know about trosers. I’d tell you but, well, I really don’t want to.
And I don’t want to hear it, so in many ways, we have found the secret to happiness. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Bliss.
I’ve seen keen though and I know you’re keen to find out the secret of trosers. If you were to say join the fraternity of zingers then perhaps I could be persuaded to part ways with this morsel of information.
No, I’m fine, thanks. I’m not joining the F of Z, and I have no interest in the trosers. In many ways you’re barking up a losing hand.
Your reluctance to embrace this things I believe after I’ve put so much time into them is disappointing. You’ll only get so many invites and then you’ll have to listen to our witty dialogue through the walls or some kind of air vent.
Then you’ll know that the zing is the thing.