Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Just what the fuck has happened to ad agencies?

Chemistry meeting: 9.30 am.

(There's your first problem: 9.30am. Is there any excuse for starting a meeting at that time? How's a chap supposed to have a decent breakfast by that time? Plus it takes a good 2 hours to digest a decent breakfast and have a good, honest, man's dump.)

I arrived at the fourth company on the list of those hoping to be my new agency, then into what was labelled 'Pod 4 - The Inventorium' hoping to see a boardroom table groaning with pork-based breakfast products. It was, instead, groaning with fucking fruit, fucking water and double-fucking green tea.

And just to twist the knife that had been stuck sideways up my fudge-pipe, sitting opposite me with a MASSIVE haircut, a piercing in his gums (in his fucking gums!) and his own special bottle of Japanese water, was a cunting planner.

I won't bore you with the details because...well, I don't remember any. All I remember is watching the ironic retro clock ticking onwards, onwards, onwards while the planner showed me yet another slide that looked like a frantic four-way gangbang between a pie chart, a map of the moon, a parallelogram and a violent sex offender with a marker pen and Parkinson's.

So, as soon as I was released from that horror show, I called the fifth agency on my list.

'What will you be serving at the chemistry meeting?' I asked.

'We really believe in good diet helping good thinking', came the reply, 'so it'll be water, fruit and green tea. It's brilliant for conceptualising.'

'Right', I said. 'Then will you kindly fucking do one.'

So that's it. Five chemistry meetings and all I get is one proper tear up. The other one I had to do myself. One proper old-fashioned roister that fully cemented the client-agency relationship. (I believe so very firmly in cementing that relationship regularly. Ideally every Friday.)

What has happened to ad agencies? When did everyone decide that fucking fruit is good for you? FRUIT! It's fucking awful! And eating it makes you look like a total fucking cunt-pole.

AND GREEN FUCKING TEA? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? It tastes like grass mixed with sick - and I should know! (I once mistook an ornamental lawn for a salad bar. It had been a very long day.)

The upshot is I've got three agencies left on the list and I can't stand the sight of two of them.

I need to make a decision. Luckily that's what I do best. I don't even need to think or anything!

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!


  1. Every Suit would be lucky to have a Client as decisive and firm in his views as you, Dave. We should beer soon, you and I.

  2. You're totally right, man. You can't trust in anyone that drinks that fucking shit.

  3. Thanks, men. It's good to know that there are people who share my views out there.

    Then again, my views are generally fucking genius, so why wouldn't you share them? I know I would! If I don't already. Which I think I do. If it's possible. Which it may not be. Er...yeah.