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.
Larry Finlay
Managing Director
Transworld Publishers
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
from Hodder is on flight. He’s wearing dark glasses and beret, so hard to tell. Suspect publishers might be on this one like flies round cow poo. Will proceed with speed. And caution. But mostly speed.
Katie Espiner
Senior Commissioning Editor
Transworld Publishers
Sent from my BlackBerry
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: David Crutton
Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.13
Subject: It’s tatty-bye time
I’ve always liked you, David. When you were being your most despotic back in our Miller Shanks days, I couldn’t help harboring a soft spot. You used to lose it with such élan. And even when you were firing people like you were going postal in your old school canteen, at least you were making us laugh. At you, if not with you, but any laugh is better than none, innit, bro?
And you never took bullshit. In a business that’s built on Himalayan heaps of the stuff, that is to be admired. So you’ll surely thank me for not bullshitting you now.
You’re a fucking idiot.
I mean, only a numpty could think even for a nanosecond that Neil Godley is a thief. This is the man who can’t take a copy of the free paper on the tube because it “feels like stealing.” Do you genuinely think he’s capable of making a concerted effort to heist an entire office?
Honestly, do you?
Well, obviously you do, because the poor guy is on remand.
Phone the cops and tell them you’ve got it horribly wrong. Then compensate him with a big fat check made out to his favorite charity because he’s Christian like that—a better man, in fact, than you or I will ever be.
You’ll find the stuff from your office in a white Transit parked outside Unit 17 on the Compass West Industrial Estate in Tottenham. You’ll have to move fast because the thieves round there don’t waste time. God knows what they’ll make of your Damien Hirst. That’ll go straight in a skip.
Yes, it was me, in case you haven’t figured it out already. And I did it alone. Godley was not Sundance to my Butch. That’s just too fucking ridiculous.
Well done on the GIT meeting. Tell Zlatan not to fuck up the art direction on my posters. He may be handy in a life-or-death situation, but his typography sucks.
It was good working with you, David. Once was a revelation, twice was a treat. But please do the right thing with Godley.
Best wishes (and I really mean that),Liam O’Keefe
PS: I heard about the tattoo. Are you sure? Is it really you?
PPS: Also heard the gay rumor. If it’s true, respect, dude. It takes a proper man to face up to himself.
PPPS: If it’s not, you might want to kick some arse. Suspect it started where most rumors do.
PPPPS: Most rumors start with Milton Keane. Sorry, but after the Godley-is-a-thief fiasco, I feel I have to spell things out.
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Bill Geddes
Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.24
Subject: Re: The day that keeps on giving
Yo, Bill. Sounds like an exciting meeting. Brilliant. Well done and everything.
You want me to restore some perspective though? Is that honestly what you’re after? OK, I’ll give it a go.
It’s all bollocks. These precious moments of triumph we award ourselves, utter bollocks; self-serving sop to get us through a working day that would otherwise be futile drudgery. Face it, our lives are without merit. We just take from the world and give nothing back. We are leeches. That we read the Guardian and are appalled when something barbaric goes off in Gaza or the Congo, and that we choose dolphin-safe tuna and buy Fair Trade at Starbucks doesn’t mean a fucking thing. In fact, it makes us worse than the leeches that truly don’t give a fuck. At least they’re honest. We, on the other hand, are fraudulent hypocrites. We believe we can fool ourselves with the same lies we feed the world in our advertisements.
Ah yes, those ads—you know, the ones we sweat over, argue about and fight for as if they actually matter. Well, they do matter. In a bad way. They make us the standard bearers for the cunts that are raping every living, breathing thing on the planet.
We are their bitches.
Got some perspective now? I know I have.
It was nice knowing you.
Liam
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Brett Topolski
Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.29
Subject: Re: All right, all right, I’ll tell you
Tell Vince congratulations. I’m made up for him. True Love is All and when it comes along you have to cherish it—no matter where you find it. I wish him and his Princess Jasmine all the luck in the world. Seems they’ll need it, given that Allah stands between them like a psychotically angry Care Bear.
Popping out now. Might be some time.
Liam
PS: I love you.
PPS: Like a mate, that is.
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Lorraine Pallister
Sent: 26 January 2009, 15.33
Subject: Re: You’re still a twat, but ...
I’m sorry about the Turks. I didn’t tell them about you. They must have found something of yours when they went around the flat. You’re right, they don’t want to buy me a drink. They want to fuck me right up.
But I think I’ll save them the bother.
I’m sorry, Lorraine. I know I’ve said it a million times before, but this is the last time. I’m sorry for everything. For wasting the last eight years of your life. Worse than that, for giving you nothing but grief when you deserve so much better.
Someday you’ll meet a guy who’ll treat you with the love and respect you’re long overdue. And if he doesn’t, one day he’ll have me to answer to.
I never stopped loving you. I’ve told you countless lies, but you know that’s the truth, don’t you?
Sorry for bothering you. It won’t happen again. You can get back to work now.
Liam
From: Liam O’Keefe
To: Harvey Harvey
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.02
Subject: Soon come, mate
Played one last game of Super PONG in your honour. New high score. I credited it to you. Just going to make a commemorative pyre of your Dr. Who DVDs and then I’ll be joining you.
Stick the kettle on.
Liam
From: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.03
Subject: Milt
He’s back. Think we might have to do suicide watch again. Come and see me.
From: David Crutton
To: Róisín O’Hooligan
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.04
Subject: Job
If Slobodan and his mates are loafing down there, I have an errand for them. There’s a white Ford Transit parked outside Unit 17 on the Compass West Industrial Estate in Tottenham. Tell them to go and collect it. It c
ontains my office furniture.
From: David Crutton
To: Sally Wilton
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.07
Subject: Godley
I think you called this one wrong. I’ve just had a confession from Liam O’Keefe. You’d better come up for a chat. By the way, I don’t imagine you’ll be Godley’s favorite person when he gets out, so I suggest you talk to a lawyer. I’ll do my best to cover for you in the all-staffer.
From: David Crutton
To: All Staff
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.10
Subject: Office thief
I’m delighted to announce that Sally Wilton’s ingenious diversionary tactic of having Neil Godley arrested for the recent rash of office thefts has paid off handsomely. She has succeeded in flushing out the real culprit, who when challenged with the overwhelming case against him, had no option but to admit his guilt.
I am referring to Liam O’Keefe. He was always my prime suspect—I simply lacked the evidence. Anyone with knowledge of his whereabouts should contact me immediately. Failure to do so will lead to charges of aiding a criminal.
In the meantime, do make sure to congratulate Sally on the brilliant success of her crime-busting initiative.
From: David Crutton
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.12
Subject: Milton Keane
Tell your homosexual friend to come and see me immediately. I have gossip to discuss with him.
From: Lorraine Pallister
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.17
Subject: Re: You’re still a twat, but ...
Just got out of a meeting and read your e. You’re not going to do something stupid, are you? Reply immediately.
From: Bill Geddes
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.18
Subject: Re: The day that keeps on giving
When did you get so righteous and maudlin? And what do you mean, “It was nice knowing you?” Where are you going? DC just sent an all-staffer saying you confessed to the thefts. Is that why you’re off? Can’t we have a leaving do? In secret, obviously.
From: Brett Topolski
To: Liam O’Keefe
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.19
Subject: Re: All right, all right, I’ll tell you
Your advice stinks. It’s all well and good for you to sit there 3,396 miles away (I Googled it. Again) and talk of “True Love,” but I’m dealing with fucking reality here. And the fucking reality is that our mutual friend is drawing a metaphorical dotted line around his neck complete with helpful “cut here” instructions.
And what do you mean, you “might be some time?” Have you resigned or something? That’ll pay off your debts, won’t it?
Don’t reply unless you’ve got something useful to say. Or something genuinely funny. Romeo is writing sonnets now. The very idea should be hilarious, and normally it would be, but I’m completely drained of my sense of humor.
From: Bill Geddes
To: Kazu Makino
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.21
Subject: Well??
Have you seen the Prez yet? I know I’m a complete arsehole and you’re not talking to me, but you’ve got to let me know.
By the way, if you never talk to me again, I’ll never be able to tell you the full story of the GIT meeting. It was well beyond amazing.
From: Janice Crutton
To: David Crutton
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.29
Subject: Noah
Have you found our son yet?
Sent from my BlackBerry
From: David Crutton
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.30
Subject: Noah
Have you found my son yet?
From: Dotty Podidra
To: David Crutton
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.31
Subject: Re: Noah
You want me to find him? Didn’t realize.
From: David Crutton
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.32
Subject: Re: Noah
I told you to put out an APB.
From: Dotty Podidra
To: David Crutton
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.34
Subject: Re: Noah
Right. Sorry, I was getting confused. Where do you want me to look for him?
From: David Crutton
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.36
Subject: Re: Noah
I have no idea. Thus the request for an APB. His mother seems to think he’s fled the country, so it’s probably too late. See if you can get me a coffee without fucking that up.
From: Dotty Podidra
To: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.38
Subject: APB
Still no idea what it is, but it’s definitely not a trance act. DC cleared that one up in his usual rude way. How’s little Milt been doing since his “talking to?”
From: David Crutton
To: Janice Crutton
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.39
Subject: Re: Noah
I cleared my afternoon diary to look for him. Just got back to my desk. I’ve tried all the obvious haunts/mates, but there’s no sign of him. Mind you, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. He’ll probably turn up this evening wanting his tea as per usual. How is Tam? Perking up, I trust. Did she get my flowers? I’ve wanted to phone and ask, but I’m assuming you’re not taking my calls.
I don’t know how many times I have to apologize for my brain-storm with the tattoos. I am sorry. It was stupid. Having said that, I think you owe me an apology as well. I have been as patient as I possibly can be through this pregnancy, but there is a limit to the number of irrational outbursts I will put up with.
I would like to come home. It is my house too, Jan.
David
SMS:
Lorraine: Call me, Liam. Or just text that you’re ok. Worried sick
From: Susi Judge-Davis-Gaultier
To: Dotty Podidra
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.42
Subject: Re: APB
I’ve managed to calm him down with some valerian root (and a Temazepam, but for God’s sake don’t tell him!). He’s “resting” in Caroline’s office. Can you pop in and have a look at him in a bit? TB’s got me doing blumming D&AD entries. I’ll be here all night!!
From: Lorraine Pallister
To: Bill Geddes
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.47
Subject: Liam
Hi Bill—Liam’s ex here. We only met once, at Liam’s 37th. I was a bit of a cow, but he was being a prat and I took it out on his friends. Sorry. Anyway, the point: I got a weird and slightly scary e-mail from him a while ago. Probably nothing in it, but it got me worried. Also, there are some pretty unpleasant blokes looking for him. You don’t happen to know where he is, do you? Not at work, I guess. Sorry to bother you, but can you drop me a note if you know anything? And get him to call me if you speak to him.
Thanks and best wishes,
Lorraine
From: Bill Geddes
To: Lorraine Pallister
Sent: 26 January 2009, 16.54
Subject: Re: Liam
Hi Lorraine—don’t recall you being a cow at his birthday bash, but I was totally juiced and probably made a tit of myself. Sorry.
I had a strange e from him too. He was supposed to be at work today for a big meeting, but he didn’t show up. According to our MD, he’s wanted for some office thefts. Could be something to do with that.
e Squared Page 25