[Adrian Fry]

Fifty Shades of Gravy did for my career. I specialise – rather, I specialised – in devising high concept television formats. In layman’s terms, I surfed zeitgeists, knew soapumentary from mockudocudrama and brainstormed titles that suggested concepts rather than the reverse. Equine origami infotainment extravaganza Only Foolscap Horses was one of mine, along with white goods retail fest Mr, Sell Fridge. I even brought posh lavatorial quiz Gameshow of Thrones to transmittable pilot stage. But then I scrawled Fifty Shades of Gravy across the Channel 4 whiteboard. Though the team were agog for a concept, I couldn’t deliver. Every telly chef I approached – their supply is, surprisingly, finite – opined that there simply aren’t fifty shades of gravy; those there are turn out to be in all other respects identical. Meanwhile, the sadomasochists declared the stuff the very definition of unerotic. Pitch stalled, I was fired before I could suggest Waltzing With Dinosaurs.

[Rob Stuart]

Fifty Grades of Che

Following the Arab Spring and the Ukrainian Euromaidan it seemed the zeitgeist was auspicious for the resurrection of that countercultural classic, the Che Guevara t-shirt. I optimistically screenprinted ten thousand of the standard black-on-red variety, but was dismayed to find they sold more like cold sick than hot cakes. A spot of market research quickly identified the problem: modern consumers expect a choice of designs and materials that reflect their politics and income bracket and the ‘Citizen Smith’ style just wasn’t cutting it. I responded by producing fifty different grades of the garment. These ranged from a solid gold shirt with an inlaid platinum Che and the words ‘HIPPY SCUM’ picked out in rubies, to a jam on recycled burlap version (the picture vanishes on the first wash, thus allaying any fears lefties might harbour about the commodification of the great man’s image.)

[Martin Parker]

FIFTY SHADES OF DULUX

Let's paint it yellow, I suggested brightly, hoping to end a week of indecision.
Which yellow? my wife asked.
A yellowy yellow, I ventured, Cheerful and . . . well, yellowy.
Men! she exclaimed, opening the Dulux Colour Guide. Choose one.
I studied the page of tiny coloured rectangles. They all look much the same, I said.
Dear God!, she muttered. So pick one with a pin.
Bamboo Shoot? I said.
Too brown, she said.
Wild Primrose?
Too green.
Soft Yellow?
Too pink.
Lemon Zest?
Too yellow!
But we agreed on yellow, I said.
Yes, dear.
When I came home from work next day the kitchen was blue.
It's a yellow blue, she said firmly. . . .
The psychiatrist agrees that my cell's walls show just a hint of Lemon Spirit. But she has the nervous twitch of one who is a little too anxious to please.

[Graham King]

Nice work, Rob, Martin.

[FOsen]

50 SHAPES OF GREY

What was it that drew her to him—his vast wealth and power or his mysterious past as a circus contortionist? She couldn’t think—not with both arms pinned in his vice-like grip, as he pressed her to the wall using only his stiff upper lip. Meanwhile his other hand tugged her hair, forcing her face upward, while his tongue probed her quivering philtrum. His lower lip was undoing her blouse; she heard him gnawing the pearl buttons and a muffled pting!, as he spat each one into a cuspidor he’d balanced on her shoulder. His left leg rustled beneath her dress, removing garments that, with his right foot, he neatly stacked and folded. Thinking him thus fully engaged, she was startled to feel her feet leave the ground and to find herself lifted along the wall by degrees, helpless as a pallet on a forklift.

Frank

[Douglas G. Brown]

At the 1985 Microsoft shareholders meeting, Bill Gates unveiled the new Windows 1.0 operating system. “It’ll make us all rich!”

An old lady from Dubuque asked, “How will we make anything selling it for $100, if a computer lasts for 10 years?”

“Simple” replied Gates. “Planned obsolescence! We follow up with Windows 2.0, Windows 2.1/286, Windows 2.1/386, Windows 3.1, Windows 3.2, Windows 95, Windows 98, Windows 98 Second Edition, Windows ME, Windows NT 3.1, Windows NT 3.5, Windows NT 3.51, Windows NT 4.0, Windows 2000, Windows XP, Windows Vista, Windows 7, Windows 8, Windows CE, and so on into the next millennium. Actually, each edition is obsolete the day we release it; but we’ll wait until the market’s saturated before we roll out its replacement!”

“Don’t you think we’re pulling the wool over the customer’s eyes?”, asked the lady.

“Uh, I wouldn’t put it that way. We’re merely pulling Window shades over their eyes. In fact, ultimately we’ll have fifty shades of Windows for those suckers….”

[Brian Allgar]

Douglas, I think you make Bill Gates appear far too scrupulous and well-meaning.

[Sylvia Fairley]

A lot of clever ideas! I've gone for something somewhat in the style of '50 Shades' (being the only one of us who admits to having read it!) But I suspect this is not really what Lucy is looking for...


FIFTY SHADES OF OBJECTOPHILIA

‘Stay in the left-hand lane... Exit ahead!’ How often had he thrilled to the timbre of Jane’s voice, while closeted in the steamy intimacy of his Fiesta. Each journey they shared, his erotic fantasies were stirred by the varied shades of her seductive tones. But today, their 50th, would be special. He had asked her to plan a route along deserted country lanes, avoiding main roads, so that they could be alone together. His hand was sweating as he felt for her ‘on’ button and the map flashed onto the screen, the quivering green arrow echoing his frenzied passion. The countryside sped past while, with mounting excitement, he submitted to Jane’s urgent demands ‘Turn left... turn right’, green arrow thrusting across the screen. He pressed the accelerator and felt the throb of the engine turning faster and faster... yes... yes... YES!
He had reached his destination.