Friday, 25 September 2009


Whoever it is that's applying for a job as Global Brand Director at ******* and/or Integrated Marketing Communications Director at ********* - you've left your job specs up here on the third floor.

Both roles apparently require 'discretion', so... best of luck there.

Toilet reading

Dear gentlemen of the ********* Building,

Please stop pinching the tabloids so that you can read them while you're having a dump. We're fed up with finding the Sun, the Star and the Mirror on the floor of the khazi every single bloody day, and obviously we can't archive them after they've been abandoned in a puddle of piss. Seriously, just stop it. It's a massive waste of our money to be buying these all in just so that you can ogle the norks while you evacuate your bowels. If you want to catch up on what Katie's saying about Peter or whether Jacko's really dead while you're unleashing a brown demon, please supply your own reading material.

Comedy ticket for sale

Hello everyone.

I have a spare ticket for Richard Herring's 'Oh Fuck, I'm 40' show at the Arts Theatre on Friday 29th Feb.

The man is a genius and if you don't find him ball-achingly funny then you're probably a tedious robot from the future who likes Titchmarsh and crying in the dark. So, yeah... come along if you want. You'll have to sit with me but don't worry, I'll probably keep my hands to myself. (Be aware that I can make no such promises for my awful friend ***** who, in all honesty, will make you feel really uncomfortable.)

Ticket was £12.50 but, you know, buy me a few drinks and we'll call it even.


p.s. This isn't a cry for help.

Phone for sale


Would you like to buy a mobile telephone? I bet you would. Perhaps yours is a bit rubbish? Perhaps you want a spare (which, if we're honest, is a very sensible idea)? Buy mine. It's good, you'll like it.

Call me on **** for details. Come on, don't be a prick.

Even in context, this was confusing

Hi this is **** and I'm with The Weather.

I'm trying to find out how The Weather is feeling, but The Weather is pretty much keeping itself to itself and refuses to tell me how it will be later. I've tried offering biscuits.

I will therefore leave The Weather outside to think over its behaviour.


PS ******* and I like the hula hooping girl talking about "s is for sex"



I've already briefed *** on this as it's an issue of great confidentiality due to massive ramifications and repurcussions.

I think I've invented the Ultimate Mangler......what I would call the 'Flux Mangler Plus'

It combines the outright ball-removing efficiency of the Mangler Plus with the 'pause/rewind' functionality of the Flux Mangler.

Imagine kicking someone's balls clean off, no hard that they fly for AT LEAST 150 metres.........and then rewinding them back at high speed so that they cause even further trauma! You could actually repeatedly watch someone's balls smashing in and out of them.

I'd imagine the US Army will be interested. Keep it under your hat or, as it's a foot-based device, firmly within a thick sock or a slip-on loafer.


Marketing Week

Hello everyone.

I'm afraid the delivery of Marketing Week has been delayed today because "it on'y came inna ware'ouse abaht an haaar ago", so we "won' geddit til tomorrer" and there's "nuffink we can do abaaaaaaaaaaaaht it".

You can read most of it at so hopefully that'll suffice until tomorrow morning. Enormous apologies. Please don't hurt me, it really isn't my fault. Blame the extravagantly cockneyish tossers at ******** or ******* or whatever their name is this week.



Hello Agency,

We're looking for a German lady aged 25-35, or at the very least a native German speaker with an authentic accent. We'd need an hour of your time today to help us out with recording a voiceover for an ad that we're testing.

Apart from the honour of your voice being played to literally tens of German housewives in a darkened room in ********* and my eternal gratitude, we would provide an alcohol based reward or your choice of the finest industrial techno with chainsaw SFX that iTunes has to offer.

If you fit the bill, and would be willing to help out, please give me a tinkle.

Please note, all xenophobic or 'comedy' responses will be forwarded to HR with the recommendation of several months in a Siberian labour camp by way of punishment.



Please can you make sure that you don't put your left over food down the sinks in the bathrooms (who does that???) apparently in the last few weeks there have been several blockages mainly in Bays 1 and 2 (despatch end of the building), which is a total pain for facilities and very costly - its also totally minging.

There are big bins provided in each kitchen especially for this purpose, so please make sure you use them rather than the bathroom sinks.


MD's response to the above email

Indeed. Bins, not bathroom facilities, are for leftover food. Mind you, it's probably the same confused person who keeps shitting in my bin.

Hopping mad

Just to 1) save myself from having to tell the story too many times, and 2) spoil ******'s fun by not allowing him to tell the story too many times, I feel an all-staff email is required to tell you all that i dislocated my knee on Friday night. Yes, I was spectacularly pissed, yes, I was attempting to carry **** and **** to show how strong I am, and yes, wee *** gleefully leaped on my back at this point and out popped my knee. I believe that I cried out in a high, girlish voice, but I can't truly remember.

As you see me hopping around on crutches for the next couple of weeks, feel free to point and laugh.

Love x


Well as you know my life is enviable and glamorous

came off last of a succession of longhauls after a few days swimming with SHARKS around boardroom tables and very little sleep having had to suck up to sharks and do my day job long into the night juggling people in time zones, dribbling and weak with exhaustion, and imagining the piles of washing, mess and dirty plates prepared for me by my loving family (there were no disappointments there as it turned out) but - no driver waiting, then after too many angry calls, old driver appears who says ' I'm 75' - not cos it's his birthday but just cos he is

then he was all shifty and insisted on going to the car while he got his ticket - I assumed he wanted a wee or something.
I dutifully got into the draylon back seat of a bouncy suspension-free old nissan...

but actually he'd lost the ticket so we drove round and round the multistorey look for the parking office, then he found it and took 45mins to sort it out, then he tailgated all the way home and cut people up and went psycho the whole way

next driver the following day after another there- n-back trip had such BO I 'did a labrador' and had my head stuck out the window all the way down the M4 - pong pong pong

meantime on a quick hop to ****** after secret meeting of intense skullduggery, I paid $15 for a '10min backrub' by the departure gate and the massage woman starts singing enya and improvising her own words like 'reeelaaax, it's sooooothing in your eyes, youre auara's mine to heal ...' -jeez, I was really really afraid. she put her finger in my ear too which was wrong, all wrong, not sure deliberate, she was a nutter

then I look up and there is an impenetrable forest of wheelchairs jockeying for position all around me, I look up higher and see it's a flight to Lourdes. I look down again and notice ten monks in cadfael robes looking sternly at the people in the wheelchairs (don't know why, maybe they wanted a turn). and my phone rang but i couldn't fish it out of my bag in time and said 'fu*k' - this is my damnation for treating myself to a 10 min weirdo-rubdown, I've been rumbled by my boss, and the wheelies/monk assemblage all heard and cursed me to hell for my profanity

this plus outrageous behaviour from very high maintenance ****** people who insisted on an a la carte meal in the middle AND end of the day, teams in ******** and ****** grossly misbehaving in very different but sleep-stealing ways and some unexpected difficulties in my normally immaculate assassin-squad ****** team

please can I have a nice job down with you ?

Further toilet reading

There's a man in this building who likes to read newspapers on the toilet. He likes to read our newspapers on the toilet, and always leaves them in there. We don't really fancy retrieving them after he's finished with them, we don't know what he does in there - it's never a grown-up paper with long words and clever people news. It's always one that's got tits in it. That's what he likes looking at while he's sitting in a dark room with his trousers around his ankles.

We know who he is. If he does it one more time I'll tell you his name.

Free houmous

Anyone want a tub of delicious caramelised onion houmous? I only had a tiny scoop before I realised that it's full of carbs. (My bastard fucking doctor says 'no carbs, no wheat, no dairy' - I don't know what that leaves. Lichen? Wasps? Christ, I'm hungry.)

Anyway, it's yours if you want it. Save yourself £1.14 (minus the 0.7pence-worth I snaffled). Once the contents have been consumed, I'm sure that the pot will make an excellent storage facility for your wayward paperclips and suchlike. It's got a lid and everything.

More thievery

Morning all.

I've had a number of people recently reporting that magazines they've ordered haven't been turning up. Process of elimination has shown that it's not that the suppliers aren't delivering them, nor is it that the heroically fastidious team in the postroom aren't distributing them - it comes down to some person/persons wandering off with other people's post.

Now, if you see a copy of NME or Heat or whatever sitting in someone's post tray you might think it's a minor frivolity, but if they've ordered it they've done so for a reason. Taking other people's post is (obviously) theft.

Don't steal from your colleagues, it's not on. And you're making me look a right dick.


Honda for sale

I know what you're thinking. The sun's shining, you're wearing clean pants and you work in an office that's got a bar in it. Your life isn't turning out too badly.

...but surely there's more to it than this? It can't all be me, me, me - how about some sort of benevolent charitable activity to make your soul shine and your halo glimmer? What could you do this week to make the world a marginally better place? Fear not, I have the answer.

As you're no doubt aware, the rate at which cars are destroyed, crushed, crashed and generally decommissioned in the UK is devastating. Perfectly good machines, once somebody's pride and joy, needlessly and callously sidelined in the bleak and shameless name of progress. Well, no more! I put it to you that it is your obligation & your duty to do what you can to stem this destructive flow. Do it. Save a Honda today.

Call me on **** and buy something worth fighting for.

It'll only cost you a few hundred to get it ship-shape... go on, you know it makes sense.


Stop nicking our stuff, it's mean and it's making us very sad.

I've said this a million times before (well... not to you ***** folk. Hello. Welcome to my bitterness), but people are still relentlessly and remorselessly stealing our newspapers and magazines.

We get these in for your use, that's true. That is their purpose. There are, however, systems involved; rules that need to be adhered to... otherwise there will be total anarchy. If you all carry on in this way, we may find copies of Campaign lining the floor of the bar like some absurb canary cage, wads of the Telegraph blocking the toilets, inoperable elevators due to shafts jammed with the Economist. Could you live in such a world? It smacks of dystopian calamity to us.

Look, come and help yourselves to the news and mags - that is, of course, what they're for. But please, please sign out what you've borrowed in the little blue folder and for the love of all that is holy, do return the damn things at some point. There's no merit in us spending all this money to be a continually up-to-date source of information if people are just stealing our resources on a daily basis. We're seriously considering cancelling everything, splitting the money between us and going on a nice little holiday somewhere. It'd be a lovely soothing break for us, plus I'd be spared the indignity of saying 'I'm sorry, we don't have the newspaper/magazine/whatever you're after' over and over again.

So please - play by the rules. We're not bad people, we don't deserve this. We've totally lost our faith in the human spirit and are on the verge of implosion... and you don't want that on your conscience.

Lots of manly handshakes, heartfelt hugs and shifty sideways glances,


p.s. Today is Campaign day. This always gets stolen straight away. Think on - you're not the only one here.
p.p.s. We're keeping a closer eye on the resources from now on; if we see you a-thieving, we'll follow you to your desk and yoink your most expensive possessions (although they're probably from Netto, you cheapskate).
p.p.p.s. Don't leave The Sun in the lav - I know there's a delicious poetry to the situation but do try to exercise restraint.
p.p.p.p.s. Sorry to nag. I hope you all have a lovely day. I like you.

Campaign (yet again)

Dear thieves,

Please return all of our copies of Campaign immediately, lest we rampage through the office in an orgy of insane violent blood-lust fury.

Lots of love,

Campaign (again)

Campaign gets stolen from us every week. Every week.

We buy in all these magazines so that everyone can have access to them without having to get individual subscriptions for each person (which would obviously cost a fortune), but the system breaks down if you nick stuff and don't bring it back because it means no-one else can see whatever it is you've pinched. It's selfish. So, two things:

1) Remember that if you're borrowing something you need to sign it out in the folder, and bring it back at some point too.

2) We won't be keeping Campaign on the magazine racks any more, it'll be in a secret place. You'll need to ask us for it. Sorry to be draconian, but this is what happens when you betray us. We have feelings too. Imagine a cute fluffy little bunny being repeatedly kicked in the face by Russell Crowe. That's what you're doing to us.


Campaign has failed to materialise again this week. I would apologise profusely, but it's not my fault. It's the fault of *********. Annoyed? Call them on 0207*******. Ask for *****. Tell her she's incompetent. Tell her she couldn't organise a nun-shoot in a nunnery. Tell her she couldn't open a can of beans that was already open.

Hopefully our big bulging stack of mags will be here soon. Those of you that get Campaign in the post should be receiving it as normal. The rest of you will need to perch on the edge of your seats and await further instruction.


Morning all.

Those of you that receive newspapers/magazines/etc may have noticed their absence this morning. I can only apologise for this (it isn't my fault, but you look like you need a scapegoat and my morning couldn't get a lot worse). Apparently our suppliers have a rather traditional view of the supply/demand chain and insist on being paid for things. Imagine that.

Hopefully this will all soon be a distant and unpleasant memory. In the meantime, feel free to come down and swear at us. We promise not to retaliate.