I have now been sent so many things asking for pitches to produce content and it's all been "We're looking for scripts based on being in isolation." I can't think of anything I want to write or watch or read less than bollocks based on this actual bollocks.

If I was commissioning stuff right now I'd be like "HEY GUYS DO YOU HAVE SCRIPTS ABOUT BEING IN A MASSIVE FIELD SURROUNDED BY HUG ADDICTS?"

Here is my 70,000 word novel about touching my face deeply and deliciously with my dirty, dirty hands that I've just used to scoop food directly into my mouth with in a crowded sweaty restaurant full of laughing families.

Here's my screen play in which a character (f 33) goes to a shop just to buy some non-essential Twirls and as she wanders up the middle aisle not feeling heart racingly nauseas at being out the house, she brushes past another shopper and her hands don't tingle with possible death

EXT. DAY. PARK. Between 3 and 1000 members of Laura's immediate family are gathered for a picnic. No one is playing Draw Something in a desperate bid to keep spirits up despite fat fingers and not enough coins to buy the colours they need.

How about a fantasy novel in which Covid-19 is a virus that ONLY affects the internet and so the only thing we cannot do is socialise remotely? Oh no wait. That's just every novel pre-electricity. Just read some Austen or something.

So, it's a feature film, opening scene: a beach packed with sweaty, happy, frolicking holiday makers. They are carefree, exuberant in the summer sun. And get this, they have a competent Government.

Chapter 1. In which no one was making banana bread.

She breezed into the salon and sat down with a sigh. The professional stylist ran her hands through the brunette locks and began her work, snipping with care. When the colouring was done there were no blotches of brown speckled across her neck, ears and forehead. She was happy

He wanked once into the waiting sock and thought to himself, "that is the only time I will do that today for I have other, better things to do."

It was 8:45 and he dropped the children off to school, where they would remain safely, and, more importantly, away from him and the house until at least 3:15pm.

Chapter 2: In which the kitchen table is just a kitchen table instead of two offices, a schoolroom and a kitchen table.

“I was thinking of going to the pub with the boys on Saturday night.” He said, leaving it hanging in the air just teetering on the edge of being a question.
“Out with the boys? On my ONE night off this week? Leaving me here home alone?” She shot back “Sounds great. Have fun.”