e Squared (43 page)

 

From:
Lorraine Pallister

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 12.27

Subject: Twat

 

I can't escape from you, can I? This place has been overrun by two dozen Turkish thugs looking for you. Why have they come to my place of work? Oh, that's right, because you must have told the bastards about me. Well, you'll be pleased to know that the
BB
auditions have been completely disrupted. If I end up losing my job because of this, I will make it my mission to find you and kill you. Honestly, you'll be running to the Turks for sanctuary.

 

Thanks for nothing, Liam, and fuck you to hell.

 

From:
Róisín O'Hooligan

To: All Staff

Sent: 26 January 2009, 12.59

Subject: Did someone call an ambulance ...

 

... or is it just more clients arriving?

 

From:
Bill Geddes

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 13.49

Subject: GIT debrief

 

What's the usual client reaction to a creative presentation? Something anodyne in my experience, a carefully worded non-opinion designed not to contradict the later view of anyone more important.

 

What's the best response I've ever had? After I'd shown him a campaign for cat litter, the marketing director of GPC Pet Products told me
(sotto voce)
that he had an erection, but that was possibly because the aircon was set to refrigerate and our account exec's nipples came up like a pair of dials on a valve radio.

 

Anyway, that was only the best response until today. Today, my friend, your wonderful work for Mini Montana elicited such paroxysms of joy from the President of Galax International Tobacco that he died.

 

Start at the beginning: the guy, Carter Bluewash, arrived in a wheelchair with a nurse and a mobile intensive-care unit. Apparently, he has diseased lungs (I know, the delicious irony) and he was a virtual corpse. It was like presenting to Mason Verger in
Hannibal.
Or to an actual corpse. Since we could only see him through the polythene curtain of his portable oxygen tent, it was impossible to read his body language. TB presented your campaign to a soundtrack of wheezes and rasps—hard to tell whether they were noises of approval or death rattles.

 

When he was done, it was my turn to unveil Hannah “Mini” Montana. Your video montage was a triumph. He was out of his wheelchair and clawing at the polythene. His nurse, who till then had sat quietly in the corner knitting, tried to calm him down. That was when his heart monitor stopped beeping and he collapsed. The nurse did CPR but got nowhere. She was set to pronounce him dead—a proper ER moment—when Zlatan shoved her out of the way and started thumping the guy in the chest. Really fucking hard! I actually heard ribs splinter. Nothing doing. The old git was dead. You killed a client, Liam. Isn't that amazing? He was actually dead!

 

But Zlatan wasn't done. He stood up, grabbed my laptop and slammed it down on the Bluewash heart. It worked a treat. The guy came back to life like Lazarus or Gary Barlow. He took a huge intake of breath that made my ears pop and sat bolt upright. Then he looked at DC and wheezed, “Cost this puppy, Crutton. If you can make the numbers work, you have a green light.” He added one further rider (dinner
à deux
with Miley Cyrus) before fainting again.

 

He has several shattered ribs that, given his age and fragility, will probably never heal. But
he isn't dead,
and that's the main thing, isn't it? Paramedics arrived and stretchered him out, then it was backslaps and champagne all round. DC promised a knighthood to Zlatan and TB offered a toast to you and Harvey. I think all is forgiven.

 

Wish you were here. Honestly, the whole thing was so staggering that my jaw is still scraping the floor.

 

Oh, when you do come back in, I think it might be timely to ask for a raise—screw the recession.

PS: DC has a tattoo. On his neck. What is that all about?

 

PPS: And rumor has it he's gay. Can't say I'm convinced by that one.

 

PPPS: Zlatan completely fucked my laptop, but seeing how handy he is with a punch, I won't be sending him the bill. He reckons he learned his Lazarus trick from Ratko Miadic, the Bosnian Serb war crim who's still on the run. “It either work like the dream or put motherfucker out of misery,” he said. Too right.

 

From:
David Crutton

To: All Staff

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.17

Subject: GIT

 

We have just had an excellent meeting with GIT, who accepted unreservedly all our strategic and creative recommendations. This success puts the agency on an international stage and bodes well in a time of profound economic uncertainty.

 

I would like to thank all those involved, especially Bill Geddes who bravely took up the baton after Donald Gold's shocking betrayal. Congratulations must also be extended to Ted Berry and his creative team of Liam O'Keefe, Harvey Harvey, Zlatan

 

Kovacevic and Adrijana Smiljanić. Zlatan deserves a special mention for his demonstration of stupendous extra-box thinking. Buy him a beer and ask him to show you a use for a Toshiba laptop that isn't in the owner's manual!

 

Well done, one and all. This is a terrific start to the New Year.

 

From:
Bill Geddes

To: Kazu Makino

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.18

Subject: You missed a treat

 

The client died, came back to life and bought the campaign wholesale. You really had to be there. Whatever, I reckon this would be a good time for you to duck back in because DC is in a rare forgiving mood.

 

From:
Kazu Makino

To: Bill Geddes

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.20

Subject: Re: You missed a treat

 

OK, you're a complete arsehole and I'm not talking to you any more, but I'm so excited that I've got to tell you where I am. The anteroom of the Oval Office! Yes, the actual Oval Office in the actual White House!! Better sign off. Hillary is looking at me like she thinks my BlackBerry is a terrorist IED.

 

From:
Janice Crutton

To: David Crutton

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.22

Subject: Noah

 

His passport has gone missing. I'm sure it was with the others in the study. This can only mean he's taken it, which can only mean he's left the country. Clearly, the “Queer” tattoo has triggered an emotional crisis. You're the last person I want to reach out to, but I'm really worried. Please do something. I would, but I have to take Tam to hospital. Her temperature has gone off the scale.

 

From:
Bill Geddes

To: Kazu Makino

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.23

Subject: Re: You missed a treat

 

Excuse me? What the hell are you doing in the Oval Office?

 

From:
Kazu Makino

To: Bill Geddes

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.25

Subject: Re: You missed a treat

 

What do you think I'm doing? Interviewing for a temp job? I'm meeting the Prez, you twit. Gotta go. I'm on.

 

From:
David Crutton

To: Dotty Podidra

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.27

Subject: Family stuff

 

Send flowers for Tamara to all west London hospitals (not sure which one she's in). And put out an APB for Noah.

 

From:
Lorraine Pallister

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.35

Subject: You're still a twat, but ...

 

... now I'm worried. Why are Turkish gangsters looking for you? I guess it's not to buy you a beer. Are you all right? Where are you? Get in touch. Just to let me know.

 

From:
Bill Geddes

To: Liam O'Keefe

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.40

Subject: The day that keeps on giving

 

It just keeps on getting better. You got a special mention in DC's all-staffer. And I had an e from Kaz. Guess where she is.

 

No, you'll never get it. She was at the White House, about to meet Obama!

 

It's all too much and I need to talk to someone who'll say something funny and cynical to give me back my perspective. Get in touch.

 

From:
Larry Finlay

To: Katie Espiner

Sent: 26 January 2009, 14.54

Subject: Update

 

Where are you? I bumped into Barnsley from HarperCollins at lunch. She let slip that she's sent one of her senior publishers out to France. She claims it's to sign up some French sword ‘n' sorcery phenomenon, but I suspect otherwise. Report back to me ASAP.

 

From:
Katie Espiner

To: Larry Finlay

Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.03

Subject: Update

 

Just touched down in Rodez. BizzyJet flight delayed. Bloody nightmare, actually. My lasagna spontaneously combusted when I peeled the foil off the tray! Seriously, we should commission someone to write an expose of budget airlines. Think Nick Sayers