I AM THE CLIENT AND I FUCKING WELL AM ONE HUNDRED!

Right.

In my last post, I claimed to be one hundred posts old.

El_Propheto, however, commented that I had cocked up and was actually 92 posts old.

What are the missing 8? Was it, as El_Propheto suggested, that I had been counting the drafts in my Blogger account...thing?

Or is the truth so mysterious, troubling and daunting that I just didn't go into it?

The answer, fellow marketing professionals, is yes. To the second bit.

But the truth, like a closet gay man after a night of martinis and karaoke, will out.

The truth is that I have posted 100 times, but on 8 occasions, the 'people' of powerful celebrities, business figures and political leaders have ordered me to remove what they called 'deeply offensive bullshit', 'libelous, erroneous, moronic wank' and 'the ramblings of a complete and utter cock-shank'.

Well, they would say that, wouldn't they?

With my honour called into question, fellow marketing professionals, I feel compelled to reveal the subject matter of those missing posts (as far as is legally advisable) over the coming days.

(Incidentally, if I don't reveal them, it's because I actually did reveal them, but the people who originally got pissed off at me revealing them the first time got pissed off again and made me remove them for a second time, so they'll only have been revealed for a short amount of time. Again.)

Revelation 1.

Back in November, I posted about how creatives can, on occasion, be temperamental pricks, dicks, cocks and fucks. In the course of that post, I suggested that brilliant artists such as Picasso, Da Vinci, Van Gogh and Bono have resorted to foul language, violence, torture and very detailed sketches of despicable acts of sexual brutality upon animals.

Now, I made all that up. I have no idea what those artists did when they got testy, but that didn't stop the representatives of one of the above contacting me and asking me to remove the post or they'd 'sue you so hard, your balls will end up on the back of your head and you'll be shitting money like you got dysentery in Ferrari showroom.'

Is that any way to treat someone who had simply made up a lie about you? It's not like I wasn't using it to prove a point! I was constructing a very persuasive argument - one that would have fallen down had I not made something up. What was I supposed to do?

Anyway, it seems you can't just make shit up and put it on the internet! Which begs the question, 'What can you fucking do?'

But that's enough philosophy for one day. I've got a box set of 'When Wild Animals Attack!' to get through, plus a 3-litre bottle of Scotch. I'll have it done by 3am!

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!