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From what the papers and Brett tell me, it sounds like your Mauritius jaunt is not a dream holiday, you poor dear. Still, if I know you, you will be rallying the troops with stirring cris de guerre and saving the day with your usual brio! And you’ll be able to tell me the full, riveting story when we do lunch. Soon!
By the way, are e’s reaching you in Mauritius or will you be reading this when you return to your desk?
Keep the Union Jack aflutter!
Susi Judge-Davis – 1/13/00, 10:50am
to: Pinki Fallon
cc:
re: today’s review
Sorry about the delay in replying, but I’m awfully busy preparing for Si’s return. Love to help but couldn’t possibly.
Pinki Fallon – 1/13/00, 10:55am
to: Susi Judge-Davis
cc:
re: today’s review
I can see how busy you are. You have four pots of nail varnish laid out on your desk. It must be so hard to decide which colour Si would like the most. I’d go for the plum, but then again . . . Pardon the sarcasm, Susi, but I’m getting pissed off with this. I’ll do it myself . . .
Lorraine Pallister – 1/13/00, 10:56am
to: Zoë Clarke
cc:
re: lunch
I think Judge-Dredd is about to have another fit. She’s at her desk looking red-eyed, and she’s been in a typing frenzy – she only ever does that when she’s sending poisonous e’s. I don’t fancy Multiple Sclerosis Television or whatever the fuck it is at lunchtime. How about Blakey’s? I’m sick of paying £3 for a pissy Bud at Bar Zero. I can probably do half an hour at 1:00pm. Let me know.
susi_judgedavis@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 10:59am
to: simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
re: that does it
Darling, I hate do this to you when you’re under such ginormous pressure, but I cannot stand it any longer. As the Personal Assistant to the Executive Creative Director I expect to be treated with just a little respect. But this week I have had Lorraine Pallister threatening me with physical violence and Pinki Fallon bossing me around like she owns the place. You know that I’d do just about anything for you, but I’ve had all I can take. I’ve tried to phone you to discuss this but I can’t get through. Now I feel I have no other option.
Please accept this as my formal resignation from Miller Shanks. I will of course work out the full month’s notice – I would not wish to be accused of being less than professional.
I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you for giving me the chance to work for you. It has been a privilege to be part of the inner circle of one of British advertising’s few creative legends. Perhaps if more people at Miller Shanks shared your vision and high personal standards, I would not be writing this e-mail.
I hope that even though we are parting, we can always, always remain close.
Your dear friend,
Susi Judge-Davis
simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 11:15am (3:15pm local)
to: susi_judgedavis@millershanks-london.co.uk
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!
simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 11:25am (3:25pm local)
to: harriet_greenbaum@millershanks-london.co.uk
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.
simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 11:48am (3:48pm local)
to: letitia@tavistockhegg.aol.co.uk
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 musin
g 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
simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 11:58am (3:58pm local)
to: barry_clement@amv-bbdo.co.uk
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.
After I have first booked the Ivy, where we can remember past glories and drink to those to come.
Si
Shanice Duff – 1/13/00, 11:59am
to: All Departments
cc:
re: MSTV
Ken Perry has asked me to let you know that because of a small medical emergency on the creative floor, the start of MSTV has been put back by half an hour. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Shanice
simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 12:10pm (4:10pm local)
to: susi_judgedavis@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
re: there is work to be done
My apologies for the somewhat harsh e-mail earlier.
But it was for your own good, dear heart.
Sometimes a sharp slap to the cheek is the only way to bring the hysteric to her senses. I hope you have returned to your eminently rational old self, because there is important work to do.
As I mentioned earlier, my back is exposed.
The enemy is looking for the most tender spot into which to plunge the stiletto.
Here is what you must focus on: as well as the movements of the opportunist Pinki, keep an eye on the machinations of Harriet.
And if Letitia Hegg does not call you within thirty minutes to arrange a tryst, then phone her and diarise a time.
Keep me informed, my darling.
And stay Gillette-sharp.
Our careers depend upon it.
Zoë Clarke – 1/13/00, 12:14pm
to: Lorraine Pallister
cc:
re: 999
What’s going on?!!! David has chained me to the desk or else I’d have rushed down!!! I heard the ambulance!!!!!!! Is Susi dead?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You didn’t, did you?!!!!!!!!!! Tell me, tell me, tell me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
David Crutton – 1/13/00, 12:15pm
to: Pinki Fallon
cc:
re: can’t you keep order?
What is going on? We can do without the building turning into the set of ER. It has thrown the whole day out. I thought you could run the department without resorting to Simon’s melodramatics. Maybe I was wrong.
barry_clement@amv-bbdo.co.uk 1/13/00, 12:17pm
to: simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
re: long time, no see
Surprise, surprise – a friendly letter after the last time we met. As I remember it, I was being dragged away as you hid under a table at the Grosvenor. Well, I was shit-faced, and what is D&AD without at least one punch up?
You haven’t changed a bit, have you?
You’re still writing.
In those very.
Short.
Para’s in the vague.
Hope.
That this will lend your.
Words more.
Profundity.
Than they actually.
Possess.
And if I read between your lines, you seem to be implying that I would actually leave Abbott Mead Vickers for Miller Shanks – swap an agency that’s won more awards than you can shake a fucking big stick at for one, erm, one that has you working for it.
Fucking brilliant idea, mate. When can I start?
While you’re reminiscing about our Spanish shoot, that was a certifiable fiasco. Our bloody ad was the reason Happi Snax went titsup. A tiny company like that had no business spending 750k on one thirty-second film.
Weird that we don’t speak for years and you just happen to write the day after I have lunch with one of your suits (sharp cookie, that Harriet). If I told you Crutton was taking me to la Mirabelle next week would you send me flowers?
Barry
P.S. I’ve just remembered your nickname at O&M. “AS SEEN ON TV.” Shagged any cute drag queens lately?
simon_horne@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 12:21pm (4:21pm local)
to: susi_judgedavis@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
re: there is work to be done
Susi, where are you? Speak to me, darling.
brett_topowlski@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 12:22pm (4:22pm local)
to: liam_okeefe@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
re: THE PLAN
Vin’s back from the bar and he’s steaming mad. He has a plan. It’s not subtle and it won’t get us our jobs back. But it’ll make sure we leave with mile-wide grins. Sorry if it makes life a mite hairy for you over the next few days, but you’ll enjoy it all the same.
brett_topowlski@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 12:33pm (4:33pm local)
to: pinki_fallon@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
bcc: liam_okeefe@millershanks-london.co.uk
re: Coke
Hi, Pinki. Vince and me have thought a lot about what we’re going to tell you, and it hasn’t been an easy decision. We don’t want to get anyone into bother, but we think you should know all the facts.
Liam told us about the Coke idea that Simon had and that you’re working up for the pitch. As soon as he mentioned it, we had a feeling of déjà vu. After a bit we worked out why. Two girls called Jane Backer and Kitty Bates dropped their book off for Simon last year. We sneaked a look at it and they’d done a campaign for 7UP. The line was “IT’S IN THE CAN.” We don’t want to point the finger or anything, and it might just be coincidence. But we were talking to
Letitia Hegg earlier. She mentioned that Simon was at her place last week looking at folios, and we know she’s been punting Jane’s and Kitty’s around town.
Like we said, we don’t want to make any wild accusations. But we think that for the sake of Miller Shanks you should check it out before you go too far down the road with things. You might reckon that because we’re in the crap at the moment we’re just doing this out of spite. We’re not. We were students ourselves two years ago and we know what it’s like to be exploited. Anyway, while it’s no secret that we don’t have a lot of time for Simon, we know that you have put a lot of hard work into the Coke campaign, and if it turns out to be someone else’s idea, you know how shit sticks.
Sorry to do this – Brett and Vince
liam_okeefe@millershanks-london.co.uk 1/13/00, 12:44pm
to: brett_topowlski@millershanks-london.co.uk
cc:
re: Coke
Wicked bastards! You’ve probably lumbered me with a shit-load of extra work but I’ll let you off since you’re moments away from the job centre. There’s going to be some spectacular displays of arse-covering now – I’ll just sit back and enjoy. Pinki is doing a Coke review with Harriet so it’ll be a short while before she reads your e.
You’ll like this. An ambulance has just hauled Susi’s arse off to hospital. Pinki found her locked in Horne’s office and suspected an OD – empty pill bottle on her desk. She got security to smash down the door (the shiny new replacement for the one that was axed last week) and found her slumped over Horne’s desk. After they’d stretchered her off, Lol was going through her bag to look for her parents’ number. She found the contents of the bottle of tabs carefully wrapped in tissue. Should have known the skinny prima donna wouldn’t have the balls to go through with it. Pinki called the hospital but it was too late – they’d already pumped her stomach (contents: half a crisp bread, two segments of mandarin orange, a small cup of Earl Grey, a chewed finger nail?). Lol says it’s done her a favour, saving her the trouble of doing the post-lunch fingers down the throat. Lol’s sick like that – that’s why I love her.
Did I just type the L word?
I’ll let you know what occurs on The Great Coke Robbery.
Lorraine Pallister – 1/13/00, 12:54pm
to: Zoë Clarke