"We need new material!" Exclaimed Mr. Big, the rotund head of the biggest television station around. "We're losing viewers from our sitcoms and dramas! Reality television is where it's at! Now make with the ideas!"

There was a silence resounding from the people at the meeting desk. Finally, one of the people spoke up. It was a young man, fresh out of college that just happened to be wearing a Family Guy shirt. "Have I got an idea for you!" He said with excitement. "Get this - you've got eight people living together in the same house for a while. But there's a catch to this game. Something to make it a bit more interesting."

"People get kicked off, right?" Mr. Big inquired.

"Better. There's only one bathroom and they don't know that all of their food is laced with laxatives."

"NO!" Screamed Mr. Big. "We don't need any more toilet humor! Go back to your Family Guy and Simpsons! Who's next?"

The next person spoke up. "Okay, this one's a keeper. We put fifteen people on a jungle island and kick one off each week. The winner gets a million dollars."

"That's boring. Is there some sort of catch?"

"I was just getting to that. The show's being filmed on the sacred grounds of a cannibalistic native tribe!"

"No! We can't put our contestants, or camera crew for that matter, in any real danger! I like your thinking, though. Keep up the good work. Next?"

"This'll blow your mind!" The next person said. "We get a group of women to compete for a man that they think is a millionaire. However, the viewers will all know that he barely makes a living with his current job. Once he finally picks a woman, he has to tell her his secret."

"That he's not rich? Seriously, lets get creative here people!"

"No, no, that's not the man's secret. His secret is that he's actually a woman!"

"Wrong again! Can't any of you come up with anything right?" Mr. Big was furious. He pointed at the small, squirrely new guy. "YOU! What do you have?"

"W- w- well..." The poor man stuttered. "We have a group of up and coming businessmen competing for a spot in a rich man's company. I'm thinking of calling it 'The Boss.'"

"Is there a catch?"

There was a pause. "...umm... The Boss is actually a woman?"

"No! That's not even original! What's wrong with you? Get out of my sight! Who's next?"

A slick young man stood up. He was probably about the same age as the kid in the Family Guy shirt. He was the only one in the room other than Mr. Big to be wearing a suit.

"Get this," he began, "We get people all around the country to sing on television. The public gets to vote on who they want to win."

"Karaoke?"

"No, more than that. The winner gets a record contract."

"Go on... What makes people come back for more?"

"Well that's the good part. You see, we're gonna have three people judging the singers, even though their opinion doesn't even matter. Two of these judges will be washed up pop stars who are just desperate for some sort of pay check. And get this - The third judge isn't even someone famous. He's just some angry British guy! All he does is insult the singers and try to get them to kill themselves!"

"Yes!" Mr. Big said with a grin to fit his name. "I like it!"