So as British advertising's best blogger, surely Campaign should be knocking a fucking hole in my door to get ME to sign.
Have they fucking balls.
What is wrong with these people? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM?
Here I am - the golden fucking goose - and they...or am I the golden egg? Or is my blog the egg?
Hang on. Let's fucking think about this for a second. I'm the goose, right? That makes sense. But the eggs I lay are the blog posts. Yes?
Were the eggs golden, or the goose? Was it a normal goose, but the eggs were golden?
Surely a normal goose laying golden eggs would be no use. You might eat the thing before you knew it could lay golden eggs. But, then again, a golden goose would just sit there being...gold.
Jesus. This is hard.
What to do?
Fuck it - I'm a golden goose laying big, shiny golden eggs. Let's just agree on that, can we?
Right. Where was I?
Ah! That's it: fucking Campaign. What a bunch of cuntbuckets.
Anyway, I've got frigging work to do. I'm off to sit in a series of pointless morning meetings with my agency, the sole purpose of which is to provide an excuse for a massive free lunch.
Why? Because I AM THE CLIENT!