You know how we PR girls work.

Give us money, food, sex, shoes, and clothes (not necessarily in that order, apart from the money) and bingo: you get award-winning campaigns. Happy clients. Karoline (with a K) promising unspecified powdery extras. All's well with the world in a fluffily gorgeous sort of way.

But ask us to "get with the real world" and, frankly darling, that's about as attractive as watching football. Hence the scene at P&F when we heard we had won the 98p Stores account. Or was it Poundgrab? God knows.

And apparently, "it's the effing extra penny that makes all the difference", according to the marketing director (brown jeans, possible hair weave).

These horrible stores are sprouting like fungus all over Britain (except for the nice bits) and we are expected to manage the roll-out.

We are told that what we need is a celebrity who has a 98p (or even £1) face. Kerry perhaps? "I don't want change," says Browntrousers scornfully. I advise Anastasia to choose one of the less famous Nolans in a bid to scupper her career.

It's all light years away from Kandipants, where we go to escape the trials of Dolestretcher, as it's become known internally. It's the new clubnight for young PR professionals and, honey, the glamour, the glitz, the product placement, are all fantastic.

I've got my new energy drink client, Thrust, pride of place. We're 100% convinced it will be bigger than Red Bull one day. It says so in the press release, anyway.

Saw Lembit there again. "I was joking about the VAT on food. I didn't expect you to put it in The Grocer," he says nervously. About as funny as his stand-up act then.

Back at Fluff HQ the next morning Miranda says: "Did you see the Tesco results, they're taking on the world." Odd. I didn't know they were playing.

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