Advertising, Knobs and Fruitcakes

I loved the time I spent working in advertising: I had japes and larks and got to sit at my desk, pissed and howsyerfather. I met fellow like-minded humans who became my drinking buddies and didn’t seem arsed that I had a gob the size of Scotland and a tendency to ‘let myself down’. No, it was happy days; we got pissed, we pissed around and furthermore, we took the piss. And the remarkable thing was, that at the end of the month someone would very kindly put some money in my bank account. Happy days, indeed.

I was that lunch...

Note (and applaud) this bird's vice-like grip on her vodka beaker as she grabs

a few well earnt z's after a lunch break out on the lash.

            Of course, there were times that I’d be troubled by some knob in a suit to actually do something in return for this money. Bit harsh. Or some fruitcake of a creative would waft into my line of vision and bleat on about ‘creative values’ and ‘mid-tones’ and the suchlike, and then I’d say something like, “It’s all in hand,” and add a confirming nod, just to reassure them (and get shot of them), so I could get back to pissing around.

            Now it must be said, (and to introduce some clarity on the matter) that not all suits were knobs, nor indeed were all creatives fruitcakes; it’s just that the worst knobs were invariably suits and the worst fruitcakes were invariably creatives, (although I do recall, on one occasion calling a Creative Director, ‘a tit in a trance’ for good measure during a verbal ding-dong exchange we were having – and interfering with my play time).   

            And the brilliant thing about these creative types, is that they properly got to piss around in work time under the guise of ‘being creative’. Have a butchers at what they did to an old Scottish and Newcastle ad from my early years. Cover your eyes, children…

Of particular note, the amusing tag line, "The one you don't down in one".

And this is the result of what drunken production people get up to in the afternoons...



            I’ve worked at quite a few advertising agencies over my 14 years in the trade and a couple of publishing houses too. Strangely, when I used to resign (to flounce from one unsuspecting company to another) some of them actually seemed sorry to see me go. Apparently, I was a ‘character’ and amongst being rat-arsed in the afternoons, it wasn’t unheard of for me to sometimes slip up and perform my duties with an element of professionalism. Sometimes.

            And because we all pissed around (although some markedly more than others…) some top quality muckers of mine found the time to produce some legendary leaving cards for me. Here’s two of the best.

Look a treat, don't I?

This is the front page of an epic 6 page leaving card from my first job

(at Leo Burnett) - a clear indication of how relieved they were to get shot of me.

Looking a bit more of a sauce bucket in this one...

This company (LSDC) had a right tickle when I presented them with an opportunity to stop

paying me for doing fuck all; I was buggering off to Cyprus...

            So children, if you’re looking for a career in serial drinking and larks, remember, you could do a lot worse than pursue a job in advertising…