Wednesday, 12 May 2010

I QUIT BECAUSE YOU CANNOT COPE WITH THE GIRTH OF MY VISION

SCREW YOU IN YOUR EAR YOU FUCKBUCKLE CUNTWADGE MORONS!

UP YOUR FUCKING CLACKERS!

GAAAGH! SCAT-MASHERS!

I've fucking had it. I HAVE HAD IT.

Another bum-rupturingly good idea. Another presentation to the board. Another room full of blank faces, unmoving and cold, like ranked tombstones - only tombstones WHO JUST DON'T RECOGNISE MARKETING CUNTING GENIUS WHEN THEY TITTING SEE IT!

What can I do? I give these people an idea like 'Every Hole's A Goal with the England WAGs' and it's like I've put a turd on a plate, sprinkled it with badger jizz and dead babies, added a dash of pepper and yelled, 'Lunch is served!'

The same happens when I announce my groundbreaking plans to suck the gay market dry. And when I devise a strategy to be the first brand to truly embrace product placement.

Well, enough is enough. The straw on the camel's back has crossed the fucking line.

Big Andy Poleman, MD, just looked into the middle distance during my entire presentation, only squirming and grunting occasionally. (Admittedly, I discovered later that he was getting a blowy under the desk at the time, but he might have delayed that until I'd finished.) Big Alan Cockson, FD, wasn't there because he'd had a heart attack mid-dump for the third fucking time this week. And Big Brian Humpage, Sales Director, just looked at me through his tinted glasses, smirking like the cat that got the cream, as well as a new Audi for hitting its targets.

All anyone said when I finished was, 'Has someone farted?'

WELL, FUCK YOUR SHITTING FACES! I DON'T HAVE TO TOLERATE THIS! I WILL TAKE MY CREATIVE GIFT ELSEWHERE!

I could do anything. I've mastered marketing. I could master something else. I could master teaching, or rearing cows, or producing porn films, or medicine, or managing a Blockbuster, or writing adventure books for girls, or supply chain management, or bar work, or meteorology, or astrology, or pathology, or watch making, or food science, or...well, you get the point.

Er...where was I?

OH YEAH! TOMORROW, I WILL HAND IN MY RESIGNATION! AND WE SHALL SEE WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE FUCK-CRACKS WHEN I AM GONE!

I'LL TELL YOU: NOTHING!

Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT - AND I FUCKING QUIT!

6 comments:

  1. What...NO!!! Don't quit, don't give them the satisfaction. Imagine what would happen to your brands if you left, all those fantastic and ingenious ideas would never come to light.

    Who would guide the agency?

    No, don't do it.

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  2. Whatever you do, don't stop writing this blog. I don't care if you're a fucking watch maker, you better keep writing a blog. Good day!

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  3. Those fucking, cunting, fart-twiddling morons will be on their knees to beg you to come back. You WILL find out how many blowies you can take in five minutes.

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  4. Don't give up marketing Dave. You can transfer you gift to one of Cleanavia's competitors for a tidy sum. Beko, for example. Their current posters are shit -- not a single decent bristola in sight!

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  5. My friends, it warms my considerable dangle-bag to hear your kind words.

    Rest assured, this is not the end of Dave Knockles. This is merely the beginning of the end of the bit before the phoneix rises from the ashes and soars with eagles in pastures new.

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