For the sake of harmony and peace in these troubled times, we must hope and, if we have the faith, pray, that Keith Chegwin and Lee Hurst do not cross paths in their clamber up the ladder of show business. Rarely have two stage jockeys of similar vintage exhibited viewpoints of such polar distances.
Ever since Twitter got its second wind and exploded into the wider consciousness (a euphemism for when I joined) in the early months of 2009, its capacity for highlighting good causes, and fanning the flames of derision for those less worthy, has been remarkable. Due, one supposes, to the restrictions of the 140 character format, there is a certainty that today’s big story will be replaced by a new jamboree tomorrow, yet the capacity to spread a topic worldwide in minutes remains a breathtaking but welcome addition to our lives and our understanding of each other.
Humans; there is something about our nature, our heritage, which leads us rather readily into pack instincts. We could tumble off down a bridleway of a diversion here and muse upon the rise of fascism in the 1930s, those experiments where ‘normal’ people push buttons to cause (faked) terrible pain on others, and the careers of Queen and Genesis, but we shall leave that to Paul Morley and Roger Scruton.
This inclination to form a mob has been one of the less appealing nuances of Twitter, as, on an almost daily basis, someone with influence, and with high profile followers, will place a link and fulminate (as much as one can in 140 characters) about some terrible injustice or other. At times this can be very worthy indeed and publicise some odd ‘goings on’ at the very apex of power, or alternatively it can fixate on a matter of narrow interest (usually to media types *looks at self*) and detonate a small issue out of all sensible proportion.
Keith ‘Cheggers’ Chegwin, the winner of this week’s Twitter ‘Under The Microscope’ award, falls somewhere between those two categories. On the surface, a tendency to tweet occasional cloying and sugary messages to people more famous, and (here’s the thing) post jokes that he hasn’t written, may seem a little twee (in the first example) and mildly disingenuous (the second), but as is often said in such situations, nobody died.
(As a side dish, Cheggers may yet regret this return to the public eye, because the clicking classes like little more than examining a showbizzy person’s CV for errors and aggrandisement. The biography section on Cheggers’ website gives plenty of fuel for such a pursuit.)
However, and it’s a might big ‘however’ (if I could get away with 36 point verdana on that ‘however’ I would have it leaping out of the page, with a horrid yellow, banana coloured highlight behind it, and surrounded by those ‘walking ant lines’ that Word offers in its font options)...
However, there is a bigger matter at stake here, beyond the 53 year old giggler and his remarkably long lasting career.
Firstly, there is, m’lud, the clarity of ownership. One of the first rules one should learn, if ever placed in the gaze of the public is – never claim a falsehood is truth, for ye shall rue the day.
Chegwin, in an initial tailspin, before he ‘gathered’, and his responses became more aggressive, tweeted the following (both of them on Monday, before the storm really took hold):
• I write my own gags here on Twitter if people wanna use them do so - I'm not precious
• Always been honest about my gags, I'LL SAY IT AGAIN. Most of the gags are my own & some I remember from old. If ya don't like it 'UNFOLLOW'
This is clearly not the case. Cheggers has 89 credits in his Internet Movie Database entry; not one of them is a writing credit. Are we suddenly to believe that in his fifty fourth year, he has struck such a goldmine of comedy form, and scripted so many short form gags, that he has become the Barry Cryer of 2010, and further, that the mine is so rich, he can afford to drop these one-liners into Twitter like golden confetti. A man so disposed to creating a new comic moment each hour that he can proffer them to his Twitter followers with nary a care, like the Queen dishing out Maundy Money to the pensioners of Derbyshire?
I suggest, members of the jury, that Mr. Chegwin is laying a false trail with such a claim. A swift Google of some of the gags reveals that many of the lines posted in the last week or so, were posted in a block on an internet forum in February of this year, and not by said Cheggers.
That, my learn’d friends, is a matter for you and is not the key issue that detains us here, for the lack of attribution is aggravating, the claim to be the author, or at least not to be able to remember the author, is silly and unwise in this information-loaded age. It is rather like me popping round to your house, playing you Pet Sounds and claiming I composed and recorded it last night.
The core of the matter I place before the court is that of the validity, or otherwise, of ‘sharing’. If we accept that these are not Cheggers’ jokes, then it is not for him to share them on such a platform. If there is a debate about whether movies and music should be shared by peer-to-peer software, then comedy writers deserve their place at that table.
In my mind bogglingly successful career (note – tongue firmly in cheek here) I have written for comedy shows on BBC radio, TV, and stage. I have been paid, and still receive residuals (royalties) of a staggering five or even ten pounds each year for my efforts. The principle, and indeed law, is that one continues ownership of work just as an author of a book, a songwriter, or screenplay writer would.
Unlike, for example, the level of interest and long life, of a popular piece of music, comedy writing does not usually extend to multiple plays. There is the initial laugh; if the gag is heard again, say a year later, there may be a guffaw of recognition, a smile of recollection. Run the same joke for a third time and the response will be, “We’ve heard that one” and an uncomfortable silence in the auditorium or living room. Thus it could be argued that a comedy writer’s lot is a hard one. One’s work has a short shelf life, and if a living depends upon it, each use of the material is a crucial contribution to that living.
This premise is destroyed if the moment that material is aired, others claim it as their own, and either toss it away on Twitter, or (the modern trial for writers and comedians) steal it and use it in their own shows with neither attribution nor payment.
A writer is a writer, and the humourist deserves protection from theft, just as much as Thomas Pynchon or Joan Didion.
So whilst I genuinely wish no ill feeling towards Cheggers and hope his career continues to bring succour and joy to his devotees, I do hope that he either finds a voice within that gives him the gift of writing his own material, or that, if he wishes to employ the works of others, he contacts the relevant agents and arranges a suitable process for the payment of royalties.
In which case, he need have no fear of bumping into Lee Hurst, or for that matter, any hitmen from the Writers Guild.
Terence Dackombe, July 2010
