Or, to put a different inference on it, fresh ammunition.
Right. Let me gather my thoughts, then begin.
(Just gathering those thoughts.)
(Still gathering. Indulge me a moment longer.)
Good. I'm ready.
Finance Directors at ad agencies are like gargoyles on castles. A completely and utterly repellent appendage that serves absolutely no visible purpose, apart from making the castle uglier.
They are, in my experience, vulgar little cuntbags, shitknuckles, jizzrags and fuckends who suck on the cock of advertising glamour to fluff the ailing hard-on of their own self-image because, underneath the very thin veneer of their phoney struttery, they are beancounting motherfuckers whose sole purpose in life is to make my advertising worse and their profits better.
Listen to me, you horrid breed of half-lit, pasty-fleshed ballbag-fondling candy-stealers: if anyone's going to make my advertising worse, IT'LL FUCKING WELL BE ME!
That's all I've got to say on the matter. And it's all that needs to be said.
Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!