I know I’m extremely late to the party but I’ve only just watched Ricky Gervais’ series The Extras.  Binge watched it over two nights this week. The first thing I have to say is that it is arse clenchingly funny. The second thing I have to say is that it is rather thought provoking.

I tend to think that every character Gervais plays is basically David Brent in a different set of clothes but there was something about the character of Andy Millman in The Extras that spoke to me.

Viewers of the two series and Christmas special will know that Millman basically sells out his artistic soul for fame and fortune before having an epiphany in the Celebrity Big Brother house and realising where his heart truly lies, which is of course producing something meaningful rather than the turgid sit-com he finds himself trapped in. He also realises who his real friends are.

Its made me think about my own books and my direction as a writer and I’ve asked myself a few searching questions. The main one being, are my novels just an excuse for writing about tawdry behaviour and making fart jokes a la Medicine Show? Secondly, have I gone down a route that I never wanted to go down in the first place? Thirdly would I rather write high-brow literature or sell millions of books that are basically all froth and filler?

The first answer I have is, yes, there is a wealth of slapstick humour in the ongoing Wilkie saga but there are also a great deal of moral dilemmas that Joe has to face and I like to think they add a deeper element to each book. They are comedies though at the end of the day and comedy is a lot harder to write than you might think and making people laugh is something I’ve always been good at.

And whilst it is certainly true there is a lot of sexual innuendo and flatus gags in the ongoing Wilkie saga there are also deep veins of pathos, searching questions, spirituality and even beauty between those chuckle inducing pages. I like to think that there is a lot more to my books than farting and frolicking in the hay.

The second question I have to respond with the answer – no, I don’t think I have gone down the wrong route as a writer. I think everyone who first makes the decision to sit down and pour half of their year into writing a book has the ambition to write a future classic, convinced that the amazing plot they have will be an equal to Howards End. Writers read a lot and this has the tendency to convince them that they know it all when they’re still soaking wet behind the ears.

Experience, however, eventually leads those who are genuinely determined to be authors to find their comfort zone, their sweet spot, their niche. For me, that niche is comedy. I’ve found my ideal genre and by learning from the hackneyed attempts I made in the past at deeper material I’ve vowed to never try being so bold ever again. I’m sticking with humour.

For the third, self-imposed, question, well, I think I’ve already answered it in part. I can’t do high-brow. I’ve tried and failed and found my niche. But then, who says that comedy can’t be a little high-brow at times. There’s a wealth of difference between the idiosyncratic comedy of Spike Milligan and the pun-centric comedy of Tim Vine. Both very funny men but completely different in their approach the craft. And it is a craft, by the way.

At the end of the day, if whatever you’re writing has integrity and a good work ethic behind it then you can at least be content with yourself. Would I rather sell millions of books or would I rather write a classic. Well, why not have both? Ah Boy is, in my mind, comedy gold and a classic in waiting. That of course would bring fame and fortune. I’d like the latter but not the former. I want to be widely read and my books enjoyed, but I don’t want to be recognised by all and sundry in the street and everywhere I go.

And that, as Andy Millman found out, is the price of fame. Once you’re famous you become public property and if you make even the slightest faux pas the media will pounce on you like a pack of wolves and tear you to pieces. And that is something I can really live without. If there was a way of selling lots of books incognito then I’d happily go for that option.

I could be the Banksy of literature.

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I’m not sure if any of this makes sense.