Â
Fuck, I hate Sundays.
Â
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm depressed.
Â
And lonely.
Â
And scared.
Â
I can say that to you because you're already dead. I can say anything to you. Anything at all. I can tell you how unspeakably fucking bleak I feel to have arrived at thirty-seven and have absolutely nothing to show for it.
Â
Nothing.
Â
Whatsoever.
Â
Oh, sorry, there are a few things: an ex who despises me; a guy in the clink for something I did (though I am trying to fix that); a stack of debts so toxic that even the Royal Bank of Scotland wouldn't touch it; a job where I'm earning brownie points for flogging cigarettes to childrenâno, worse, children who'll have to steal from their dirt-poor parents in order to fund the habit I'm giving them; and there's that irritated Turk. I think I mentioned him. He wants to kill me. He might be handcuffed to a hospital bed, but he has friends that aren't.
Â
He's got a point, the Turk. I mean, what use am I? What the fuck am I for? I should be dead. Like you.
Â
Sorry, I don't mean you should be dead. You shouldn't be. You should absolutely be alive. But you aren't. All because you did something decent. You flew 3,103 miles (I Googled it. Nothing better to do. It's Sunday) to save the life of a stranger. All right, so you're being scammed rotten. That makes you a fool. But an honest, decent, upstanding fool. Not a cowardly, lying cunt like me.
Â
Enough already. Think I'll watch Antiques Roadshow. Take myself back to a wasted childhood. More stuff to feel shite about. Did I mention that I used to dive for my county? Nottinghamshire Juniors. I used to knife into the water like a gannet after a sardine. I coulda bin a contendah. What happened? I discovered smoking and E and loafing on corners. What a fucking waste.
Â
Rest in peace, mate. And (almost) in the words of the ever-reflective Coolio, “I'll C U when
I
get there.”
PS: Love the Atari Super PONG. Do you keep it as a collectible or have you never actually heard of Xbox, Wii and PS3? I'm never sure with you.
Â
PPS: You owe me £5.86. I had to buy bread, milk and coffee.
Â
PPPS: But you're dead, so I suppose I'll collect it from your estate.
Â
From:
Ted Berry
To: Creative Department
Sent: 25 January 2009, 16.16
Subject: Let's be inspired
Â
Amazing the ideas that come to you as you're waiting to go into the ring for your second-round bout in the British Veterans Thai Boxing Championship. I thought it'd be a grand idea to bring in some inspirational names from outside the media bubble; people who can blast away the post-Christmas torpor; blow our minds with their feats of derring-do. I want names. Think bigâinfinity and beyond, mes braves.
Â
My starters for ten:
⢠Nelson Mandela
⢠Ronaldo (the lardy Brazilian, not the preening Portugueezer)
⢠Björk
⢠Luc Besson
⢠The singer who won the first
Britain's Got Talent,
despite the fact he had a face like a trampled bag of chipsâhe is the living definition of impossible odds.
Â
Gotta go and prep my
Wai Khru Muay Thai.
That lanky streak of piss Fink is limbering up. If I kick his arse, I've got Beattie in the semis. Wish me well!
Sent from my ¡Phone
Â
CEO's office, complete contents
Â
Item specifics: top-of-the-line furnishings that will instantly transform even the drabbest corporate cubicle into a swank pad fit for a swinging-dick S'ralan Sugar clone. Main items include a glass-topped desk big enough to park a family car beneath, a hide-upholstered swivel chair built for the bottom that likes to lunch and a Ligne Roset sofa sufficiently low-slung to make minions feel properly inferior.
Â
Fully accessorized with “ironic” Newton cradle, set of walnut photo frames (suitable for those essential pictures of wife, children, favorite hooker) and collection of unread self-improvement books. The piece of resistance? Damien Hirst's
Beautiful, Galactic, Exploding Screenprint
(yes, yes, it's just a piece of spin art, a three-year-old could have done it, but fuck it, darling, it's a HIRST!).
Â
Would suit wanker.
Monday
Mood : alive. Then dead. Then somehow inexplicably alive again. Then dead. Possibly
From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.21
Subject: Interns?
Â
Intern needed for urgent copying for GIT meeting. Cookies for successful applicant.
Â
From:
Milton Keane
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.22
Subject: Interns?
Â
Desperately seeking intern to bind GIT docs.
Choccy
cookies for lucky volunteer.
Â
From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.23
Subject: Interns?
Â
Cookies and fresh doughnuts.
Â
From:
Milton Keane
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.23
Subject: Interns?
Â
Choccy
cookies, freshly brewed coffee and £10 M&S voucher.
Â
From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.24
Subject: Interns?
Â
Cookies, doughnuts,
choice
of coffee or tea and four-pack of Budvar.
Â
From:
Milton Keane
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.24
Subject: Interns?
Â
Choccy
cookies, coffee, M&S voucher, free pick from Cazza's fridge (anything non-vintage).
Â
From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.25
Subject: Interns?
Â
Cookies, doughnuts, coffee/tea, Budvar and Blade Runner DVD (Director's Cut).
Â
From:
Milton Keane
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.26
Subject: Interns?
Â
Choccy
cookies, coffee, M&S voucher, fridge pick, Ugly Betty (complete Season 2) and ten-minute go on Cazza's amazing Eames rocker (sitting
is
believing!!).
Â
From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.27
Subject: Interns?
Â
Cookies, doughnuts, coffee/tea, Budvar,
Blade Runner,
ultra-cool Bathing Ape baseball cap and 8GB iPod nano (magenta).
Â
From:
Milton Keane
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.28
Subject: Interns?
Â
Choccy
cookies, coffee, M&S voucher, fridge pick, Ugly Betty, extended go on Eames rocker, over £250 worth of Esmée Ãloge freebies and a signed copy of my exclusive YouTube DVD.
Â
From:
Larry Finlay
To: Katie Espiner
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.53
Subject: I want it and I want it now
Â
Gavin in digital has finally done something useful. After a weekend scouring the net he's ID-ed Hornblower (click below for details). He's an ex-adman called Simon Horne, yet another one doing the
Year in
Provence
bollocks. Shouldn't be too hard to track down. I want you to tie up the book deal posthaste. Drop whatever shite you're on and fly to France immediately.
Â
Larry Finlay
Managing Director
Transworld Publishers
Â
From:
Katie Espiner
To: Larry Finlay
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.56
Subject: Re: I want it and I want it now
Â
Are you sure, Larry? I know everyone's talking about this guy's blog, but only because he's a complete idiot. And I'm up to my neck in the new Sophie Kinsella.
Katie Espiner
Senior Commissioning Editor
Transworld Publishers
Â
From:
Larry Finlay
To: Katie Espiner
Sent: 26 January 2009, 08.59
Subject: Re: I want it and I want it now
Â
Since when was idiocy an impediment to getting a book published? The man is a certified fucking phenomenon and I want him on our list. Believe me, every publisher in London will be creaming his/her knickers for this one. I will not be beaten to the punch again as we were with that made-up hooker blog. Delegate Kinsella and get your arse to France.
Â
From:
Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: Creative Department
Sent: 26 January 2009, 09.00
Subject: Creative reviews
Â
Any of you wishing to show Ted creative work today should hold back any witty, funny or otherwise amusing ideas. Unfortunately, he cracked two ribs yesterday and laughing causes him considerable pain.