Monday 11 June 2007

The Dark Lord screams at me

Fuck. Just had The Dark Lord (AKA PR maestro James Herring) on the phone going thermonuclear in my ear. Saying "how dare I fucking even fucking think" about sacking him over the Guardian piece and that did I not realise "what an ungrateful little shit" I can be at times.

I may be forced to rethink this. Particularly now that Herring is threatening to hold me to my 18-month binding contract (signed in sheep’s blood with a copy filed away with the devil herself no doubt!) which essentially means that unless I can somehow cough up £230k to buy myself out of this legal stranglehold, I have no choice but to keep hold of him.

But boy, he better fucking buck up his ideas.

I may have to prolong this unholy marriage of PR convenience, but that doesn’t mean I can't lay down some ground rules – and fucking fast!

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I've just seen '' touch me i'm karen taylor ''

sweet jesus ! what's up with your comedy output ?

Anonymous said...

I'm new in this TV lark, someone tells me PR stands for per rectum, what does it mean?
I'm from outside of M25.

Anonymous said...

PR stands for:

proles' royce n.

A stretch limousine with a screeching gaggle of drunken teenage girls hanging out of the window.

I didn't believe there was life beyond the M25, perhaps a new wildlife series could be set there?

Ray Mears' Telecraft Beyond the M25?

I thought it was all Gaelic nonsense, Kirsty Wark and Brookside.