No surprise that the entire PR industry was spared the Rapture. Not a pure soul among us.
However, it turns out the mad Pastor Camping got his dates wrong, so we have another five months to redeem ourselves before the end will actually be nigh.
It's also a great lifeline for red meat sales. We've already begun a campaign to convince people that they needn't worry about the inevitable bowel cancer that comes with a weekly sausage and the occasional slice of ham. In fact they can stuff themselves with steak in the way a foie gras goose consumes corn. Bowel cancer takes years to develop and we'll all be on another plane (spiritual, not Ryanair) by then.
There's still work to be done in our remaining time on earth and we're faced with the tricky brief of promoting avocados to an indifferent public. About once every two years Terry in the post room comes up with an idea for a campaign, usually by accident.
He has struck gold this time after four solid weeks of tabloid-fuelled obsessing over Pippa Middleton's bottom. Thus, next week will see us launch the Pippa's Arse Avocado Diet, complete with photoshopped images of The Dress rendered as avocado skin. Such is the power of PR that even though I know we have made the whole thing up, I have started eating avocados just in case it works.
Back to the Rapture, we've been trying to work out how many of last week's Grocer Hot 100 would be saved and how many would be cast into the outer darkness (a bit like an early Lidl apparently). Once you add the bankers, the activists and the celeb chefs, almost half the list may be in eternal damnation next time it's published.
That's assuming The Grocer exists in the afterlife. But otherwise it wouldn't be heaven, would it?
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However, it turns out the mad Pastor Camping got his dates wrong, so we have another five months to redeem ourselves before the end will actually be nigh.
It's also a great lifeline for red meat sales. We've already begun a campaign to convince people that they needn't worry about the inevitable bowel cancer that comes with a weekly sausage and the occasional slice of ham. In fact they can stuff themselves with steak in the way a foie gras goose consumes corn. Bowel cancer takes years to develop and we'll all be on another plane (spiritual, not Ryanair) by then.
There's still work to be done in our remaining time on earth and we're faced with the tricky brief of promoting avocados to an indifferent public. About once every two years Terry in the post room comes up with an idea for a campaign, usually by accident.
He has struck gold this time after four solid weeks of tabloid-fuelled obsessing over Pippa Middleton's bottom. Thus, next week will see us launch the Pippa's Arse Avocado Diet, complete with photoshopped images of The Dress rendered as avocado skin. Such is the power of PR that even though I know we have made the whole thing up, I have started eating avocados just in case it works.
Back to the Rapture, we've been trying to work out how many of last week's Grocer Hot 100 would be saved and how many would be cast into the outer darkness (a bit like an early Lidl apparently). Once you add the bankers, the activists and the celeb chefs, almost half the list may be in eternal damnation next time it's published.
That's assuming The Grocer exists in the afterlife. But otherwise it wouldn't be heaven, would it?
More from this column
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