I Directed Tim And All I Got Was This Lousy Redshirt

Today I directed something for the first time since Pieces Falling Into Place, way back in the misty days of November. It’s the sole episode of I Am Tim that I’m helming, and rather unsurprisingly it revolves around a conversation filled with tosh and nonsense.

Not that there isn’t a healthy dollop of gore and gratuitous sex still to be thrown in the mix.

(“Phew!” I hear a few of you sigh, deep in your underground caverns of disturbing masturbation.)

The scenes we focused most attention on took place in a bedroom. Two men, the taking off of clothes, an endless barrage of Labradors and just a dash of urine were all thrown into the mix.

It’s weird to be back. Yet I have no-one to blame but myself because I also wrote and produced the episode in question. And we still haven’t gotten to the REALLY strange bits.

I won’t spoil it for you. All I can tell you is you’ll never look at the Spice Girls the same way again.

I’m suddenly painfully aware that a few of you (out of the already scant few there are) might not know what it is I’m blathering on about. By way of introduction to the series I’m working on, why not watch the first episode of I Am Tim from the comfort of my blog?

And then consume the rest in your own filthy pit.

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