There are two sides to having someone steal an idea and run with it, on the one hand it is flattering that you are apparently clever enough that someone thinks you are on to a winner and so decides to try your idea out. On the other hand, when you depend as a freelancer/self-employed person, on money coming in, it is a kick in the bollocks when your idea gets blatantly ripped off. I have written before about how a character in the long-forgotten BBC2 sketch comedy series The Glam Metal Detectives was based on a character that I had sent in to the BBC with the view to getting a job as a comedy writer. I have also mentioned how Nottingham's Broadway Cinema turned down my idea (based on Charity Shop Film Guide) for an event based around films of the so-shit-they're-brilliant variety, only to come up with Bad Film Night, for which I received no money nor artistic credit, so I won't go into them areas again. It does feed your ego and piss you off in an unequal measure, maybe 80% pisses you off and 20% flatters. If you had such a good idea in the first place, it would be nice to admit to it when I came in and pitched it to you.

What is even more disappointing though, is when someone acts on an idea that you were toying with and manages to get there first. A few months ago, I planned to try and make a crowd sourced film called My Favourite Joke. The idea was to get people to film themselves telling a joke, and I would thread them together. What I intended to do with the finished result I'm not sure, I would most likely have either submitted it to the film festival circuit or attempted to get it on display in an art gallery. However, it's all academic now as there is a television show called John Bishop's Only Joking, which is pretty much what I had in mind, (the public and celebrity video clip bit, not so much the professional stand-up segments). This occasion is obviously a coincidence for which nobody is to blame, and I can't complain about it, but the problem now is that if I was to try and make My Favourite Joke then I will be accused of copying a television format.

I'm one day going to add a new page to this blog devoted to aborted projects and ideas that I have had stolen. I'm not bitter!

It's not the money, it's the principal.

And the money. In fact, fuck principal, give me the money.

I'd be quite happy not to have to put the work in if I could guarantee payment for coming up with the fucking idea to start with. Maybe there's a carrier bag full of fivers waiting for me at Broadway Cinema? It would certainly be preferable to my original pitch; write and present an introduction, watch the film, answer questions after, and all on a Saturday or Sunday lunchtime. I'm sure we would all stay at home doing bugger all if someone gave us the money. Then again, I am very happy to work in the creative sector, even if I do have to ride out the odd period of belt-tightening. Better to count your blessings than count your money.

Bollocks, just give me the money.

Last year I was allowed access to the main meeting room in the Council House*, and with that I could read through the books detailing all the council meetings from Victorian times, up to the 1990s, the books stopped abruptly when it all starting to be recorded on computer. I was originally there to do some research, (on yet another project that I gave up on), I soon started writing down some of the random facts detailed in these books. For example, cigarettes were once considered as a legitimate expenses claim for council meetings along with tea, coffee, and biscuits. You can't even smoke on the Council House steps any more! Writing down these little snippets gave me the idea of compiling them in a book aimed at the tourist/stocking filler market.

*That's Council House in big letters, not a council house. I'd much prefer it to be called The Town Hall or something that doesn't conjure up an image of chavs in tracksuits, dangerous dogs, and women with tattoos on the small of their backs, (the tramp stamp). The one good thing about it being called The Council House is that it provided visiting comedians of the variety circuit with the classic joke:

"If that's what you call a council house round here then I'm putting my name down for one".

Due to my workload last year, I forgot about my idea to write 1001 Interesting Facts About Nottingham as I concentrated on radio. The book was now a mere Post-It note (other sticky notes are available) idea on my office wall. Realising that I was never going to get round to writing it, I made the bold decision to peel it off the wall and drop it in the recycling bin in my office. A feeling of relief washed over me, and I didn't think any more about it. Until today.

Today was one of The Nottingham Evening Post (as I still call it) goody bag days, and I fell for it yet again. Their idea of a goody bag is a carrier bag containing your paper, a load of leaflets, and unsold copies of publications in the same stable. This bag of delights consisted of a can of energy drink, a packet of tissues, a two week old copy of the supplement that comes with Saturday's paper, and the December 2012 edition of Nottinghamshire Today. Quite the haul eh? However, it was in Nottinghamshire Today that I read an article about a book called 301 Amazing Rare Funny Nottinghamshire Facts, written by Chris Adams and Martin Goddard. I'm glad I didn't waste weeks and weeks on research, as it was something of a bellyache to be doing when I didn't really have the time.

Good luck to them, I'm expecting to see an advert for Muppet Disco or Children's Party For Grown Ups happening in town any day now.

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