Organic is the big new thing in the food industry and it's time the big boys got stuck in. Organic food is like vegetarians - boring, sick-looking and a pain in the arse to cater for. But Sir Marcus says we must be organic by the end of the month or he'll have my guts for organic garters. Luckily, I've found a little organic food business called Biolife run by a lot of sandal-wearing do-gooders. Money talks and ours says Get off our land, you hippies. Oh yes, I love the smell of mergers and acquisitions in the morning. I've earmarked Celeste Nibelle to head up our new organic department. She's returning from two weeks having breast augmentation. I gave her two weeks' training leave as it's all part of self-development.
Surprise, surprise! Chief sandal-wearer at Biolife is my very first boss back from the dead. When I was a young shaver I dreamed up a scheme where we gave away free flights for every washing machine we sold. The company went under, transatlantic air travel doubled but he took the heat and resigned like a gent. What a loser! Department is on maximum excitement level. Celeste Nibelle's breasts have arrived back for work. We're expecting the rest of her tomorrow. Unfortunately, Sir Marcus has suggested some woman called Ruth Parsons for organic job. She's got an accountancy background and to my mind that's where accountants should stay - in the background.
Trouble down on the farm. Biolife have a whole load of poison pills to prevent takeover. If we so much as look at a cabbage the whole company explodes in our face - not very organic, if you ask me. We'll get our legal boys onto them and we'll soon have the jam out of their doughnut. It's bizarre - we've been trying to get decent veg for years and now people want carrots that look like they've been grown in an infant school project. Why don't we just take all the veg we normally reject for looking too ugly, bag it up, double the price and label it organic? Met Ruth Parsons. Too aesthetically challenged for my team. Ugly women; you don't want them working with you, you don't want them breeding: thank god for the public sector. Difficult to see how I can't promote Celeste - those breasts are almost self-promoting.
Legal boys say Biolife are bombproof. Sir Marcus has promised shareholders we'll be as green as the arse of the Jolly Green Giant so it looks like I'm going to have my pants well and truly pulled down on this one. Took Celeste out for lunch to talk about possible new position (woof!). Spent first course with my eyes glued to Silicon Valley, as Bill Peters calls it. She ordered risotto and I realised she was a vegetarian. Disaster. Stop eating meat and the next thing you know you're demonstrating against the world bank. Went back to office depressed. Had one too many sherbets with Peters after work, then got a cab to the gym. Spent an hour drunk in charge of an exercise bike.
Legal boys submitted bill that would pay for implants for entire marketing department. Found a report on my desk from Ruth Parsons suggesting we fly organic food in from Asia. OK, it's grown by five-year-olds, it's the stuff the locusts won't touch and the planes transporting it rip a five-mile hole in the ozone layer, but the food's organic, the customer wants organic and the customer is always right. Told Sir Marcus that Biolife acquisition was off and that we were developing our own supplies because organic business growth is better than artificial acquisition. Told Celeste and her breasts that they couldn't have the job because organic growth is better than artificial acquisition. Gave the job to Ruth. The right person for an organic food job is a bean counter.