Then I was interrupted by having to help my mother with her bikini wax. (I know that sounds traumatic, but the more you do it, the easier it gets. I just do the hard-to-reach underneath bits anyway. It's not like I do the whole thing. That would be awful.)
Well, here are some more things about agencies that confuse my cock off.
I've admitted several times that planners and their powerpoint slides turn my mind into bum-gravy, but they're by no means alone. Over the years, agencies have made many and varied attempts to present me into my fucking grave.
On one occasion, an agency MD gave me 30 slides on the agency's long and celebrated history, the account director gave me 40 slides on their 'brand eruption methodology', a planner gave me the usual 50 slides on whatever the fuck it is they do and the media buyer gave me 60 slides on audience segmentation, reach, 'the media day' and his manifesto on 'owning the media worldscape'.
Then the creative director showed me a half-page ad, a flyer and an insert for the Northampton cunting Trumpet.
There was a time when the agency boys had hair you could trust, hair that, at one time, had probably been in the army. Hair with dignity, self-respect and pyjamas. Nowadays...fuck me. The tonsorial disasters are usually confined to the planning and creative departments but, to be honest, I have no idea which department is which these days.
Anyway, at my last meeting, a person of indeterminate gender came in under the auspices of 'mobile strategism' (fuck knows) and had hair that looked like a badger had been bum-banged by a taser-wielding member of Mad Max's most aggressive corps of sheep-shearers. Tell me: would it be so wrong to have a word?
The agency barista
I am a prolific consumer of coffee (especially in the morning, when I like to make a smoothie with coffee, bacon, fried bread, black pudding, eggs, ham, lamb tikka bhuna and sausages) but even I can't fathom why agencies need a fully-fledged coffee emporium inside their building. Some of you agency hamshanks even have some desperate intern as a barista, making little ferns in the milk of your skinny latte while he dreams of being allowed to blow the creative director's assistant's dog-walker's fucking builder.
Do you know how many coffee shops there are in Soho? Exactly 7,434. There are branches of Starbucks in supermarkets, petrol stations, funeral parlours, strip joints, municipal dumps, drains, the trousers of people who stand still too long - you fucking name it. I came down to my car one morning and there was one in the fucking boot! There's more coffee than rain in Britain! Just go out and get some!
It used to be Surname & Surname. Then Surname would get a call from this other Surname - and his very good friend, Surname. They'd do some lunching and, a bit later, merge into Surname, Surname, Surname & Surname. Then Surname would leave, but Acronym & Surname would come along - creating Acronym, Surname, Surname & Surname. By this time, agencies had rebelled against that old-fashioned naming protocol and were going for Dark & Esoteric or Edgy & Cool. So when Acronym, Surname, Surname & Surname acquired an up-and-coming agency to compensate for fact that they'd grown too rich to be bothered, they became Acronym, Surname, Surname & Surname / Edgy & Cool.
Now, agencies are called things like UnCulture or MeLikeYouLikeHappyTime, and I honestly can't decide which is fucking worse.
Oh, Jesus. I have to stop again. Thankfully not my mother's bikini wax this time - just an enema. Why she hasn't learned to get the fucking tube in herself, I don't know.
Anyway, there will be more! And it will be su-fucking-perb!
Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!