e (73 page)

I hope that even though we are parting, we can always, always remain close.

Your dear friend,

Susi Judge-Davis

	[email protected] 1/13/00, 11:15am (3:15pm local)
to:	[email protected]
cc:
re:	that does it

Do you think all I have got to worry about is your bloody welfare? If you weren’t so self-obsessed you would perhaps have noticed that my career is in a crisis.

Pinki is trying to steal my job.

Harriet, probably with David’s blessing, is wining and dining my talentless ex-art director as my potential replacement.

And David is taking every opportunity to scythe the legs from beneath me.

On top of that I am half-way round the world trying to tailor a silk purse from a porcine ear.

In fact, if anyone should be resigning, it should be me.

Now I have you fleeing like a rat on the
Lusitania.

More than ever I need you to be strong.

Loyal.

Dedicated.

But all you can do is wallow in self pity and bleat about your own pathetic troubles.

Frankly, I despair. If you want to leave, then do so.

I am sure I can find another secretary who will stand by me when the going gets a little rigorous.

	Zoë Clarke – 1/13/00, 11:17am
to:	Lorraine Pallister
cc:
re:	lunch

Can’t do lunch. Crutton is insisting the whole management floor watch MSTV in his office. Yeuch!!!!!!! Sorry!

	[email protected] 1/13/00, 11:25am (3:25pm local)
to:	[email protected]
cc:
re:	support

I just thought I would spend a few minutes catching up with you. As you will know, we are having a rare old time of it out here.

But with a little application I think I can wrestle the Miller Shanks Express back onto the rails.

We have some downtime due to the inclement weather and I have had a moment for calm reflection. You will be delighted to hear it has led to a burst of left-brain activity and I have the germs of some crazy ideas for a stunt for Monday’s pitch. As you must know, I have something of a track record at wacky stunts.

You may have heard of my dressing everyone at O&M, from the receptionists to the chairman, in cow suits for the Burger King pitch.

We came within a whisker of winning.

I was hardly to know that mad cow disease would strike that very week.

But I digress.

I will work up my ideas for you ASAP.

By the way, a little dickie bird tells me you were having lunch with my old mate, Barry Clement. I have not seen him since D&AD at the Grosvenor last year. He didn’t win a thing and was not in the best of humour.

How is he at Abbott Mead? He hasn’t been the same since our partnership split up. Well, he has not produced any decent work for over a year now, and you will not need to be told that campaigns are the creative person’s lifeblood.

I do hope he manages to put his career back on track.

Inexplicable, isn’t it, how the frail candlelight of creative inspiration sometimes flickers and dies? Poor, poor Barry. It is so heartening that you are taking the time to comfort him.

Thank you.

Do let me know how Pinki is getting on with my Coke idea. I have
had the raw smell of celluloid in my nostrils all week, but I do miss the adrenal rush of pitch preparation.

Best wishes,

Si

	Pinki Fallon – 1/13/00, 11:41am
to:	Ken Perry
cc:
re:	EMERGENCY

KEN, CAN’T GET YOU OR SHANICE ON PHONE. NEED SECURITY UP HERE NOW!! SUSI LOCKED IN SIMON’S OFFICE. EMPTY BOTTLE OF SLEEPING PILLS ON HER DESK. AMBULANCE CALLED BUT WE MUST BREAK IN RIGHT AWAY.

	[email protected] 1/13/00, 11:48am (3:48pm local)
to:	[email protected]
cc:
re:	catch-up

Gorgeous as ever to hear from you, my dear. Of course e’s reach me out here – how could I bear to cut my electronic umbilicus to civilisation?

It is a tricky old shoot, but you know how I leap salmon-like to a challenge.

I must say that it is rather stimulating to have one’s intellectual biceps worked to the burn.

The
Sun
as ever blew a ridiculous non-story into a national issue. Even so, I was forced to charge Vince the ultimate price for his foolish remarks. Harsh, I know.

Such is
le monde de chien mange chien
in which we toil.

There are plenty more from where he sprang.

I am sorry to disappoint, but there is nothing at all salacious and/or Machiavellian in the Greenbaum/Clement connection. I myself asked Harriet to offer him moral support, so down has he been dump-wise.

And of course there is no call for fresh creative leadership here. We are on the proverbial roll.

Only this morning did David tell me that in my absence he feels the sense of loss of the amputee.

However, that is not to say that I myself am not musing about change. I was going to broach this with you when next we lunched, but since you brought it up . . .

I feel that I have fired the engines of revolution at Miller Shanks and now the challenge is diminishing. Perhaps it is time for a move.

Of course, David would fight tooth and nail to keep me.

But I believe he could be convinced that the hard work is done and the task could be continued by a less colourful talent.

At the moment this is only the vaguest rumbling of
ennui.

Of longing for the next creative Matterhorn.

But we should discuss soon – you know how much I depend on your sagacious counsel. I will be frantic with Coke when I return.

But call Susi and book yourself into my earliest slot.

Si

	[email protected] 1/13/00, 11:58am (3:58pm local)
to:	[email protected]
cc:
re:	long time, no see

My friend, I find myself encircled by the shimmering Indian Ocean.

Dusky waifs bear coconut and mango on rough hewn wooden platters.

And the papaya!

What does that remind you of, my old mate? Our Iberian adventure I hear you cry, and you are right.

It was Seville of course, and there was no ocean. We had oranges rather than coconut.

But I have that same raw scent in my nostrils. That mélange of honest film crew sweat, greasepaint, that
je ne sais quoi.

That was some shoot, eh? To take an unassuming bag of salted nuts and give it ownership of the most magnificent of ancient Spanish conurbations was a stroke of genius.

That the client went into receivership before our advertising could weave its beguiling spell remains one of the late 20th century’s enduring tragedies.

What a partnership we had, Barry.

These days, it all seems a tad easy. Where are the challenges? The bravura displays of the mould-breakers?

Perhaps I am just in the wrong agency. Do not misunderstand me. Miller Shanks is a fine company. Just a little “easy-going.”

I realise now that I still have too much of the muse coursing through me to settle for second best.

You too, I suspect.

If I ever sensed you being lured to a safe harbour such as that offered by Miller Shanks then I would leap aboard and pilot you clear.

No, the perilous, swirling waters of the creative maverick are still the habitat for you and me.

When I return I shall start a search for something with a little more danger – edge is what I yearn for.

I shall also be dialling your number.