A Network Executive Writes a Sitcom

Oct 09, 2023

By Teddy Wayne

"We have been planning for this," [Paramount C.E.O. Bob Bakish] told Wall Street analysts . . . speaking to the WGA strike. . . . "We do have many levers to pull."

—Deadline, May 4th.

"Tipplers": a situation-comedy teleplay for the 18-34 demographic.

INT. SALOON — NIGHT

The neighborhood watering hole is populated by blue-collar denizens of an untapped metropolitan market (one background extra is Black). In walks Franklin (portly, salt of the earth, non-SAG).

FRANKLIN: Do not even converse with me until I have consumed my first mug of beer.

Laughter from audience—they expect this kind of " 'tude" from Franklin.

He sits before the barkeep, Charles (handsome, magnetic; I could play him for scale), who wipes alcoholic-beverage mugs.

CHARLES: Aren't things better down at your municipal workplace?

FRANKLIN: Yes, ever since we voted to dissolve our corrupt union. The problem, you see, is my battle-axe—excuse me, my wife. (Audience laughter of recognition) Because tonight is our anniversary, she forbad me from watching the big game with my drinking chums!

CHARLES: Then how are you here? For the ballplayers are about to take their positions!

FRANKLIN: She is next door at Antonio's, the Italian restaurant we always refer to. She mistakenly believes I am in the men's room now. Tonight I shall practice subterfuge by running back and forth between the two locations!

CHARLES: In that case, let me make you a "double."

He pours two bottles of ale into a mug. (Multiple product-placement oppo here.)

Walking by with a tray of glasses is the waitress, Jenny (twenty-one, blond knockout, not enough lines to qualify for screen credit).

FRANKLIN: Hey, Jenny, when are you going to leave that ne’er-do-well punk boyfriend and run off with me?

JENNY: As soon as you divorce that nagging harpy of yours!

Audience laughter, as it understands this is harmless flirtation between adults.

INT. RESTAURANT — NIGHT

Franklin breathlessly rejoins his wife, Linda (over forty). He peeks at the big game on his cellular phone under the table.

LINDA: Mother has been having trouble taking care of herself. What do you think about having her move in?

FRANKLIN (pumps fist at game): Yes!

LINDA: You’re O.K. with my mother living with us?

FRANKLIN: I never agreed to that!

LINDA: I just asked. You said, "Yes!"

FRANKLIN: No, I was reacting to the big—

LINDA (puts hands on hips and cocks head suspiciously): The big what?

INT. SALOON — NIGHT

FRANKLIN: Looks like I’m living with Queen Battle-Axe—excuse me, my mother-in-law.

JENNY (flirty): My offer still stands.

FRANKLIN: Really?

The roar of a motorcycle outside. Joe (hunky, too dumb to review his one-day contract) enters holding a boom box blasting a public-domain rock-and-roll song.

JOE: Ready for the roller derby, babe?

JENNY: Missed your chance, Frank.

She leaves with Joe.

FRANKLIN: Think she was serious?

CHARLES (sarcastically): Oh, yeah.

Audience howls. (Note to sound: no laugh track needed—this is gold.)

INT. RESTAURANT — NIGHT

Franklin retakes his seat.

LINDA: I received great news while you were in the men's room!

FRANKLIN: I didn't go to the— (robotic monotone that the audience recognizes as "acting") Oh, yes. The men's room.

LINDA: Mother accepted our invitation! She's moving in tomorrow.

FRANKLIN (smiling wide, but we get the subtext: he's unhappy): Terrific.

He drinks straight from the bottle of wine. The audience whoops as he polishes it off—classic Franklin.

FRANKLIN: I need the men's room.

LINDA: That's the sixth time tonight. Are you distracted by something?

FRANKLIN: Just . . . (A beat—what's he going to come up with now?) your ravishing beauty, my dear.

They kiss. The audience "aww"s. Franklin slowly lifts his phone behind Linda's head to watch.

LINDA: Mother asked if she could take our bedroom.

FRANKLIN (watching the game): Yes!

LINDA: Really?

INT. SALOON — NIGHT

CHARLES: Now that you’re not being gouged into paying union dues, what will you spend your money on?

FRANKLIN (holds head in hands): A foldout couch.

Freeze-frame as Charles pours three bottles of ale into a mug. The audience's laughter turns into a standing ovation for the show's courageous pro-management stance. ♦