DILDO is a half-hour dramedy set in rural Newfoundland — a fictional outport that is equal parts beautiful, frustrating, hilarious, and emotionally charged.

At its core, the show is about:

and a town trying to figure out what to do with him.**

Small-town politics collide with big feelings, old grudges, deep humour, and the kind of community chaos that only happens when 1,200 people all think they’re in charge.

The town is funny because it’s real.

The characters are absurd because they’re honest.

The mysteries are small — but the emotions feel big.

Season One charts Shan’s transition from “the outsider taking pictures” to “one of us now (God help him).”

• Letterkenny rhythm
   
• Schitt’s Creek heart
   
• Parks & Rec sincerity
   
• Hot Fuzz small-town eccentricity
   
• Mare of Easttown groundedness
   
• Newfoundland outport humour
   

• Warm, dry humour
   
• Smart, character-driven banter
   
• Subtle absurdity (not slapstick)
   
• No broad caricatures — everyone has depth
   
• Comedy built on observation, not ridicule
   
• Mystery and heart under the surface
   
• Emotional payoffs without melodrama
   

This is a show where:

• a man with a shovel is treated like a mythical guardian,
   
• a committee meeting feels like Parliament,
   
• the wharf is a confessional booth,
   
• and the ocean is the town’s unofficial therapist.
• 
   

Dildo is a character.
It breathes fog, gossip, wind, and tradition.

• The Wharf – emotional centre and spiritual church
   
• The Golden Mean Girls’ HQ – the community hall / church basement
   
• The Shop – Trevor’s workplace and the town’s rumour distribution centre
   
• Rust’s Shack – folklore, wisdom, and fish guts
   
• April’s Café Corner – modern life meets old Newfoundland
   
• The Trails – where Shan photographs, thinks, and gets stuck in snow
   
• Herb & Lyle’s Bench – unofficial news desk
   

Dildo feels worn-in, stubborn, and slightly magical without ever becoming supernatural.

The Outsider Trying Not to Be One

• 40s, photographer, newcomer
   
• Smart, observant, empathetic, sarcastic
   
• Trauma-hardened but hopeful
   
• Doesn’t want to lead anything
   
• Accidentally becomes the emotional anchor of the town
   
• His “superpower”: pulling truth out of chaos without trying
   

Season One Arc:

From “alone in a house editing photos” to “someone the town quietly turns toward.”

The Stoic Shovel Knight

• Deadpan, hardworking, shy
   
• Communicates mostly in sighs and shrugs
   
• Loyal to a fault
   
• Never asks for help, helps everyone
   
• Treated as a folk hero by kids
   
• Has seen more than he lets on
   

Season One Arc:
Shan becomes the first person Trevor actually talks to.

The Unofficial Mayor of Common Sense

• 30s, smart, funny, resilient
   
• Understands the town but won’t be controlled by it
   
• Doesn’t take the Mean Girls seriously
   
• Pushes Shan to stand up for himself
   
• The bridge between old and new Newfoundland
   

Season One Arc:
Learns to take up space — and becomes Shan’s closest confidant.

The Overworked, Underpaid Administrative Backbone

• 30s, detail-oriented, extremely competent
   
• Carries the emotional weight of town functions
   
• No one appreciates how much she does
   
• One more crisis from snapping
   
• Loves the town despite itself
   

Season One Arc:
Learns she doesn’t need to carry the town alone.

Florence, Marjorie, Eileen
The Benevolent Shadow Government

• Senior women who control everything socially
   
• Not villains — just addicted to power
   
• Emotional, petty, high-achieving
   
• Biggest fear: irrelevance
   
• Biggest strength: they care deeply, even when misguided
   

Season One Arc:
Softening from antagonists into comedic allies.

The Oracle and His Echo

• Elder statesmen of the wharf
   
• Watch everything
   
• Judge nothing
   
• Philosophical, slow, hilarious
   

Season One Arc:
Reveal they see Shan more clearly than anyone else.

The Fisherman Philosopher

• Strange but wise
   
• Cryptic storyteller
   
• Human folklore archive
   
• Takes Shan seriously before anyone else does
   

Season One Arc:
Becomes Shan’s mentor in outport wisdom.

Who gets to be part of a town?
Who decides?
How do outsiders carve a place without losing themselves?

Rural communities survive on secrets —
but those same secrets rot foundations.

The good, the hilarious, the dysfunctional, the unexpectedly beautiful.

People in Dildo are exactly who they appear to be…
until you look twice.

The difference between being alone and being lonely.

Each episode has:

Misunderstandings, culture clash, emotional growth.

Bake sale, parade, committee meeting, cleanup day, festival.

A moment on the wharf, a confession, a fight, an unexpected connection.

Running bits between Trevor / Herb / Lyle / Mean Girls.

Every episode blends:

• comedy
   
• character
   
• truth
   
• Newfoundland texture
   
• a quiet emotional payoff
   

Shan battles loneliness, bureaucracy, and outport quirks.

He becomes part of the town’s rhythm — not by choice, but by gravity.

He accidentally becomes a stabilizing presence —
and ends up leading the parade simply by taking the first step.

The town walks together — no marshal.

Shan realizes he belongs not because he earned it,
but because he stayed.

Shan ↔ Trevor ↔ April
Shan helps Trevor communicate.
April helps Shan exist.
Trevor helps both survive.

Shan ↔ JK ↔ Golden Mean Girls
The calm voice, the competent organizer, the chaotic committee.

Shan ↔ Rust ↔ Herb & Lyle
Three different levels of “Newfoundland truth.”

• Trevor speaking in one-word answers
   
• Herb & Lyle narrating like Greek chorus
   
• The Golden Mean Girls declaring emergencies over nothing
   
• Shan accidentally becoming “the reasonable one”
   
• Rust answering questions with metaphors
   
• Town treating normal weather as omens
   
• Endless confusion over who’s in charge of what committee
   
• Shovel references
   
• January jokes (“it’s only another five months of this, b’y”)
   
• “You’re not from here but you’re one of us now… unfortunately.”
   

• Fog greys
   
• Ocean blues
   
• Warm interior oranges
   
• Dark shiplap tones
   
• Snow glare white
   
• Soft green jackets
   

• Wide outport establishing shots
   
• Quiet close-ups
   
• Walk-and-talks along the water
   
• Slow zooms for comedic beats
   
• Static shots for awkward silences
   

Grounded.
Naturalistic.
Beautiful, but honest.

• Low-key acoustic score
   
• Harmonica / fiddle hints
   
• Ambient wind
   
• Wharf creaks
   
• Coffee cups / kettles
   
• Radio announcers
   
• Seagulls (but not obnoxious)
• 
   

“A wandering photographer lands in a tiny Newfoundland town where community, chaos, and unexpected friendships slowly pull him into a life he never saw coming.”

• “Every outport has secrets. This one’s just funnier than most.”
   
• “Small town, big feelings.”
   
• “Where everyone knows your business — and sometimes that’s a good thing.”
   
• “Dildo. Come for the name. Stay for the people.”
   
• “Have you got it in you?”

DILDO is a sharp, heartfelt half-hour dramedy about belonging, identity, and the absurdity of small-town Newfoundland politics.

A wandering photographer moves to a quirky outport and discovers that the place he expected to be a temporary stop becomes the one community he can’t shake. Through humour, heart, and unexpected tenderness, DILDO explores how a town can simultaneously drive you crazy and save your life.

Tone: Letterkenny wit. Schitt’s Creek warmth. Outport Newfoundland soul.

A rugged, fog-soaked outport where everyone knows everyone — and everyone has opinions.

• The Wharf – emotional & social centre
• The Committees – chaotic, powerful, unhinged
• The Shop – the rumour mill
• Rust's Shack – wisdom & danger
• Herb & Lyle’s Bench – the Greek chorus
• 
  

The setting is cinematic: harsh winters, fog, ocean, wind, humour forged in survival.

This is not a "wacky" show — it’s smart, grounded, and built on the emotional realities of small-town life.

A photographer trying to rebuild a life. Observant, thoughtful, funny, a reluctant community figure.

A stoic shovel-wielding introvert who becomes Shan’s closest ally.

Smart, independent, deeply rooted in the community. Becomes Shan’s anchor.

Overworked town admin. Keeps everything from collapsing — barely.

The unofficial shadow government. Petty, powerful, hilarious.

Old men on a bench narrating the town’s emotional weather.

Fisherman philosopher. Looks feral, speaks in poetry.

A story about becoming part of a place by accident.

Shan struggles with loneliness, confusion, and committee politics.

He becomes an unexpected mediator — the only person the entire town will tolerate.

He accidentally unifies the community during the “No Marshal” parade.

The town walks together — a metaphor for belonging.

Every episode blends:

• A cultural misunderstanding
• A town event going sideways
• A comedic B-plot
• A quiet emotional payoff

Examples:

• The Muffin Incident
• The Parade Without a Marshal
• The Committee Coup
• Snowmageddon
• Bake Sale Diplomacy
• 
  

Because rural stories matter.

DILDO offers:

• representation of outport Newfoundland life
• authentic blue-collar humour
• mental health nuance
• Canadian identity that isn’t urban-centric
• a community-first worldview

It’s funny — but it’s also deeply human.

• Schitt’s Creek
• Community
• Parks & Rec

• Letterkenny
• Trailer Park Boys (but less chaotic)
• 
  

• Mare of Easttown (but funnier)

• “Small town. Big feelings.”
• “Have you got it in you?”
• “Where everyone is up in your business — and somehow that’s comforting.”
• “Every outport has secrets. This one just laughs about them.”

• Authentic Newfoundland voice (rare and hot right now)
• Universal themes: belonging, community, reinvention
• Built-in comedic hook (the name Dildo is a marketing gift)
• Rich ensemble cast potential
• Strong streaming appeal: humour + heart + mystery
• Season One is self-contained, Season Two expands the world
• 
  

Dildo isn’t just a place. It’s a vibe. A worldview. A heartbeat.

This show sticks with you. And it makes you feel something real.

This series pulls from lived experience — arrival in Newfoundland, navigating rural life, discovering surprising friendships, and finding meaning in solitude.

DILDO blends humour, truth, heart, and Newfoundlander grit into a story about connection when you least expect it.

This is my love letter to small towns, misfits, and anyone who’s ever felt alone.

Newfoundlandisms, Outport Logic, and Show-Created Lingo

Universal affirmative. Means “yes,” “I heard you,” “I agree,” “I exist,” or “I can’t be bothered arguing.”

Used for anything from food to weather to gossip.
“The muffins were some good.”

Horrible, disgraceful, or mildly annoying.
“Their committee meeting minutes were some shockin’.”

Fully bewildered, useless, or confused.
“Trevor looked stunned as me arse in the parade lineup.”

Means “How are you?” or “What’s up?”
Never a literal location query.

Go on / stop it / keep talking / no way.
Depends on eyebrow angle.

A sulker. A complainer. A pouty adult.

Starving to death (mildly).
“Shan’s gut founded so he ate popcorn for breakfast.”

Outport GPS instructions.

Used everywhere an adjective doesn’t belong:
“Right cold, right busy, right foolish, right pretty.”

Calm down. Or smarten up. Or both.
Depends on tone.

Shock, awe, gossip, or fear.
The Golden Mean Girls use this often.

Panic, dread, or mild excitement.

Playful dismissal, not literal.

Person from St. John’s. Usually said with jealousy or contempt.

Anyone not from Newfoundland. Shan gets this label daily.

Any situation blown wildly out of proportion by the Golden Mean Girls.
Often involves baked goods.

Fog rolled in. Or out. Or sideways. Or nothing changed at all.

Could mean hurricane-force winds or a mild draft.

Real-life scheduling technique.

Pure gossip. Zero fact-checking.

Affection. Usually for Rust.

Try anything, even if failure is guaranteed.

Town workers stopped watching. People can relax.

When someone accidentally becomes the centre of attention or leadership… and hates it.
Shan has terminal Marshal Energy.

Florence, Eileen, Marjorie — the benevolent authoritarian matriarchy.
Everything is a crisis.
Nothing is an emergency.

Children’s nickname for Trevor.

Herb & Lyle. Their commentary often solves plots.

The unique mental condition where everyone in town collectively panics before a storm.
Not tied to actual weather predictions.

The mental state caused by sitting through three hours of talking where nothing is decided.

Settling disputes via muffins, loaves, or squares.
Episode 3’s core concept.

A long silence where Trevor doesn’t speak but communicates everything.

Cryptic advice that seems useless until the end of the episode.

Town’s tradition of walking together during the “No Marshal Parade.”

When store-bought goods cause social collapse.

The awkward sidewalk dance where two people keep sidestepping the same way.

A spontaneous, informal, entirely unrecognized judicial system run by Herb & Lyle.

Covert competition between the Golden Mean Girls.

Any decision made during deep winter that defies reason but feels correct.

Trevor’s “I trust you” or “stop talking” signal. Hard to distinguish.

Could mean 40 km/h winds or the wrath of Florence.

Approval. Indifference. Passive aggression.

The highest compliment. Terrifying.

Let’s start the job we don’t want to start.

Sideways blizzard.

Nuclear-grade caffeine.

Are you dating?
Are you feuding?
Are you pregnant?
Are you alive?
Hard to know.

Town mock him for saying things like:

• “brunch”
   
• “infrastructure”
   
• “boundaries”
   
• “urban design”
   
• “workflow efficiency”
   

Minimal and devastating:

• “Ye.”
   
• “Nope.”
   
• “Aye.”
   
• “Sure.”
   
• “Right.”
   
• “Hm.”
   
• “You’re makin’ it worse.”
   

He assigns meaning to:

• gull behaviour
   
• tide sound
   
• wind direction
   
• kettle whistles
   
• snow texture
   
• Herb’s cough
   

• “Not today.”
   
• “Please no.”
   
• “I need a form for that.”
   
• “We don’t need a subcommittee.”
   
• “Oh my god why are there muffins.”
   

Used jokingly to test courage or stupidity.

Tourism slogan no one approved but everyone says.

The town’s emotional resignation phrase.

Town problem-solving methodology.

Highest intellectual compliment available.

A place so unforgettable… people keep the brochures forever.

Situated on the rugged coast of Trinity Bay, Dildo is a warm, welcoming outport full of:

• stunning ocean views
   
• genuine Newfoundlanders
   
• accidental double entendres
   
• community charm
   
• and a surprising number of committees
   

Whether you're stopping in for a day or staying for life, Dildo invites you to relax, explore, and question the naming decisions made in 1711.

Right where it’s always been.

Follow the signs.
You’ll know when you’re close.
Strangely, your GPS will sound embarrassed.

Sit with Herb & Lyle - the town’s unofficial historians - and listen to them argue gently about whether the tide is “normal” or “after actin’ foolish.”

Home of:

• bake sales
   
• public feuds
   
• confusing subcommittees
   
• the Golden Mean Girls
  You may enter with optimism — don’t worry, it fades quickly.
   

Not an official attraction, but people talk about it like it is.
Take your photo beside it if you dare.

Part fishing shed, part lighthouse, part folklore library, part “please don’t go in there after dark.”

A breathtaking inlet where whales, seabirds, and gossip all gather.

A community tradition born from chaos and one man’s unwillingness to lead anything.
Everyone walks together because no one wanted the job.

Learn how to settle disputes using muffins, loaves, and passive-aggressive oatmeal cookies.

Come watch Herb & Lyle settle minor arguments with silence, nods, and ancient wisdom.

A walking tour demonstrating how two locals approach each other on a narrow path and both step left four times in a row.

World-class sunsets paired with world-class commentary:

“Bit red in the sky. Might be weather tonight.”
 

• Seagulls (reasonable)
   
• Seagulls (criminal)
   
• A moose everyone swears is “the same one from last year”
   
• That one fox you’ll think is a dog
   
• Lobster with attitude
   

Note: Please do not feed the raccoons. There are no raccoons. If you see one, contact Rust.

Where April keeps the town functional using caffeine, kindness, and non-judgmental silence.

Local baked goods so good you might cry.
Also where most political feuds begin.

Open seasonally.
Hot dogs taste better when eaten in high winds.

Search numbers spike for reasons we cannot discuss.

Not bookable.
You end up there only when the tide decides.

Even if they don’t like you.

They mean “are you up for this,” not whatever you’re thinking.

the situation is dire, or mildly inconvenient.

They’ll sense the fear.

Ask Rust instead.
He'll lie beautifully.

A celebration of community, heritage, and everyone pretending the weather is fine.

Starts peaceful.
Ends in politics.

Not an official event; just January.

• “Ayuh.”
   
• “Right cold.”
   
• “Town’s after goin’ strange again.”
   
• “Stay where you’re to.”
   
• “Not today, Florence.”
   
• “Give ’er a shove.”
   
• “Everyone’s got a little Dildo in ’em.”
   

A: Ayuh.

A: Several theories exist. All wrong.

A: Not even a little.
They’re ahead of you.

A: Yes. Do not touch it uninvited.

A: You can try.
The committees vote emotionally.

Come for the name.
Stay for the people.

Leave with stories you can’t tell in polite company.

DILDO, NEWFOUNDLAND