I Can I Can't?
Chairman: [Lighting a fat cigar with a burning 100 dollar note] Gentleman. I have called you all here today for a reason. Whilst our quest to spread disgruntlement and general unhappiness throughout the world, ironically mocked by our everyone-is-happy-advertisement-campaigns, is going well, I want more. I want a report, and suggestions. No.1?
No.1: [Impressively maintaining his attention whilst being fellated by Christina Aguilara] Well sir, the thing in Columbia is going quite well. I mean, gangs of organized crime actually KILLING any trade-unionists who suggest that pay of our employees should be more than 1 cent a day. It’s brilliant!
No.2: [Listlessly masturbating into the open mouth of Britney Spears. It is clear his heart is not in it] That will be short-lived. Yes, it is causing much loss of life and general destruction, but it cannot go on fo ever. Not if British receptionist-botherer Mark Thomas has anything to do with it.
No.3: I’ve heard that Rob Newman has been sniffing around the gaff. If they both get into it then we are all fucked. No-one can withstand the onslaught of TWO British humourists.
No.2: Exactly. Look what Micheal Moore did to McDonalds.
No.1: Wasn’t that someone else?
No.2: Who cares. We need to think outside the box. Create some sort of low-level tiresomeness that will send ripples of discontent throughout the world. The Columbia thing is too flashy.
No.1: We already invented Christmas. What could be worse than that?
No.3: [A bit red-in-the-face now and short of breath] What I suggest is just some general irratation. The knock-on effect will be huge. What we want –oh for fu- TIMBERLAKE! STOP SQUIRMING, BITCH! IT’LL ONLY MAKE IT MORE PAINFUL!
Justin Timberlake: Sorry Daddy. Only you ram my ass so good.
No.3: Christ, who gave me this one? Anyway. You know that not-very-good Coke we make in our special factory to put into the plastic bottles? Not the good stuff we put in the cans?
[General murmur of concurrance.]
No.3: Why don’t we engineer a situation in which that is as all that is available to the consumer? It’ll drive them mad. No-one likes the plastic bottles of Coke. It’ll force them into buying more than they can actually drink, and it WON’T EVEN BE VERY NICE!
Chairman: Agreed. But we need a test case first. Suggestions?
No.1: The United Kingdom?
No.3: Yes! Genius. [Pauses to grab the back of Timberlake’s head like a bowling-ball and shoots foul, hot grey man-splurge into his eager face] That’s better. Yes. They bought fucking loads of that tap-water we sold in stupid bottles.
No.2: Not for long though.
No.3: For fucking long enough. Question is, who?
No.1: Oh I know. Who’s that prick? Got a really shitty blog in which he criticises other people’s blogs like he’s the fucking king of the internet or something? As if anyone even asked him? He gets dead cross really easily. What’s his name?
No.3: Tedious Dad?
No.1: No, that’s not it. He’s really irratible though. He’d be perfect.
No.2: Tired Cunt?
No.3: No. Tired Dad! That’s him. [Pauses to consult his Blackberry]. Right. Coca-Cola Intelligence reports that he will be going on a much-dreaded shopping-trip on Saturday. To one of Europe’s largest shopping centres no less. This is our chance.
Chairman: [Raising glass of Kristal] Gentleman. To evil.
All Present: To Evil!
[Fade to black]
It is Saturday (this is me now). I’m in one of Europe’s largest shopping centres with entire family in tow. For fun. ‘Fun’ I ask you.
I try and walk at a sensible pace befitting a man. I slip. The whole fucking place is tiled in can’t-walk-too-fast-look-in-shop-windows-slowly-just-look-look-long-enough-you-spend-money tiles. I’m getting a bit fagged-off with the whole thing. I’ve already spent best-part of half-an hour in one of those dreadful ‘Bargain Books’ type places.
Why are they bargains? Because they are shit. The frightful muzak they play does not help.
Me: I have to get out of here.
Me: Because this fucking muzak is making me feel the way those high-school kids did before they loaded-up and walked into Columbine High.
TM: You really can’t talk like that in public. We’ll have the children taken.
Whatever. I am hot and I am thirsty. I would quite like a can of Coke. A CAN mind you. Not a bottle.
I have been looking for some time. I peer into Woolworths.
Me: I don’t believe it! Look. They’ve only got bottles in there as well! You cannot buy a can anywhere!
Tired Mam: Just buy a bottle. There’s vending machines everywhere.
Me: I don’t want a bottle. I want a can. Anway, they put too much in the bottles.
TM: Just buy a bottle. Whatever you don’t want, I’ll finish.
Me: No. That isn’t the point. Anyway, the stuff in the bottles tastes funny.
TM: Right. Shut up.
Me: Can we go to Poundland?
Me: Why not?
TM: Because you will spend fifteen minutes asking me – in a really loud voice – how much everything is. It isn’t funny. It’s embarrassing.
Me: Are we going home soon?
TM: Shut up. Just shut up.