8.30am, Olympus room: “Roll on the Christmas party,” I say brightly, after delivering the bad news, the worse news and the plain chilling news – the bad news being the imminent appearance of one of GBH’s own in court, charged with sexual harassment against one of our female graduates at the last Christmas party.
Them Upstairs have briefed me on the party line for when the tale breaks. ‘One-off’… ’sacked’… ‘won’t tolerate’… ‘new policy…’ Blah blah blah.
Posh Girl raises her eyebrows. “Shed agent, educated at Harrow, what do you expect?” Sporty Girl grins: “I cooled his ardour at the last party, chucked my Bellini into his lap!” We all grin.
The worse news (for Old Tom and Posh Boy at least) is they are not going to Mipim in March. Word has it that our biggest rival has slashed by half the hundreds of delegates they usually send to Cannes. Our Bloody American Masters in Atlanta (OBAMA) have caught wind and ordered GBH EMEA to match the cut. “Just me and Posh Girl,” I say, noting a distinct lack of empathy.
Posh Girl blushes, rather prettily. I detect smirks. Enraged, I lose it: “OK, arseholes. Why do you think those buggers have slashed Mipim numbers?” Dumb looks all round. “Because marketing always takes the first and hardest hit when times look to be getting hard! If they think it’s getting hard, OBAMA will think we’re going to be hit harder. The purge is coming. Watch out!”
Note to self: keep hands to self at this year’s party.