Another D&AD annual arrives for the so called creative director. Adam places them proudly on his
shelf near his obligatory others. It’s probably the last time he’ll ever touch it.
Whilst asking the sweaty IT guy how to ‘switch on’ his new powerbook, this cuntlapper of biblical
proportions cringes as the sweaty ‘live with mum’ computer geek almost clicks on his looping
MPEG of Myleene Klass showering in the jungle.
After eating a breakfast bagel from a post modernistic bullshit deli, the director treats his puzzled
department to an i-Tune powered concoction of what can only be described as whales screaming
before two dozen South Korean fisherman sink spears into its soap giving carcass.
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Blog Archive
About Me
- The Placement
- I hate my fucking job. I didn’t get into advertising to watch a Petri dish experiment of cuntal behaviour. But yet here I am. A mickey mouse degree in copywriting and a student loan that towers higher than my empty beer can monolith. And still no job. Well, that’s not exactly true. I work my balls off at one of the region’s turdiest ad agencies for nothing. Yes nothing. ‘A placement’ we call it. Which roughly translates to ‘you will work your ass off for free and we’ll nick all your ideas’. But beggars can’t be choosers and I need the experience. Sadly, my experience so far is working for a bunch of piddle-dicked creative wannabes and in particular, my Creative Director, Adam. Without doubt the most inane charlatan in the history of cunt-kind. I wish he would just buy some compost, shove it down his fetid, moth-eaten, tuna-smelling pants and grow some balls, the masquerading creative shitwit. Speaking of balls, instead of a stress ball, I let it all out here. Every moment of Adam’s working (I use the term loosely) life. A little like Bridget Jones but without the big pants. Enjoy