How to Get Ahead in Advertising Page #10

- I want a drink.

- Then get it yourself.

Jesus, I've forgotten

what I was going to say.

I believe you were about to explain

why hamburgers are going

to be the cause of World War III.

That's right, you cynical bastard.

- We're all ears.

- How can you argue with the television?

Because this poor, sick creature

with a box on his head was me.

I know exactly what I'm going to say.

Destruction of the rainforests

by, amongst other things, hamburgers,

is going to lead to a world commodity crisis,

and the commodity will be oxygen.

- What mad bollocks.

- It is not mad bollocks.

They're turning rainforests

into deserts.

Within 25 years, the Brazilians

will be fixing oxygen prices

in exactly the same way

as the Arabs fix the price for oil.

- No more!

- You want the air, you pay for it.

- No more!

- Leave it on, Dennis!

I want to watch the film!

I don't know how you can say that.

You know what this does to me,

reliving this nightmare?

Look at him. He's got a cigarette stuck

in his bandages. The man's mad.

Why do you keep

calling him him? It's you!

All right, me. It was me. But I was ill.

You were the one that said so.

You can't have it both ways, darling.

You said I needed help, and I got help,

and now I'm better,

which is why I can't bear

to watch this dreadful insanity.

Insanity?

You still want to sell 'em boils!

Nothing crazy about that.

It's a free market.

People will either buy

or they won't buy.

Nobody's forcing them.

Everyone knows what they're getting.

- Perhaps they don't.

- Of course they do.

People might be a bit greedy

from time to time,

but we're not blind,

we've got our eyes open.

- We have a choice.

- Perhaps.

Stop saying perhaps!

What's perhaps got to do with it?

Perhaps they don't.

Perhaps if they'd hanged Jesus Christ,

we'd all be kneeling

in front of a f***ing gibbet!

That isn't the real world.

In the real world, I have a choice.

Do I want it, or don't I?

And in this case,

I most certainly do not.

"I thought leaving you

was going to be so difficult.

"But the impossible becomes easy

when you have no choice.

"I want something better now

that can't be bought.

"I want a better world

than yours is, Dennis.

"I'm not gonna try and explain it,

"because I know you couldn't

possibly understand.

"Goodbye. Julia."

God, how can you be so naive?

Everything you've ever

looked at was yours.

What more could you possibly want?

- The truth.

- Shut up, you dozy scab!

I thought you were dead.

Not for nothing, cos she's free.

You lose. You lose.

Oh, no I don't.

You're talking

to Dennis Dimbleby Bagley.

And let me tell you something, boil.

She's got nowhere to go.

We're living in a shop.

The world is one magnificent

f***ing shop,

and if it hasn't got a price tag,

it isn't worth having.

There is no greater freedom

than freedom of choice,

and that's the difference

between you and me, boil.

I was brought up to believe in that,

and so should you, but you don't.

You don't want freedom, do you?

You don't even want roads.

God, I never want to go on

another train as long as I live.

Roads represent

a fundamental right of man

to have access

to the good things in life.

Without roads, established family favourites

would become elitist delicacies.

A pot of soup would be for the few.

There'd be no more tea bags,

no instant potatoes, no long-life cream.

There'd be no aerosols.

Detergents would vanish.

So would tinned spaghetti

and baked beans with six frankfurters.

The right to smoke one's

chosen brand would be denied.

Chewing gum would probably disappear.

So would pork pies.

Foot deodorisers would climax

without hope of replacement.

When the hydrolysed protein and

monosodium glutamate reserves ran out,

food would rot in its packets.

Jesus Christ,

there wouldn't be any more packets.

Packaging would vanish

from the face of the earth.

But worst of all,

there'd be no more cars.

And more than anything,

people love their cars.

They have a right to them.

If they have to sweat all day

in some stinking factory making

disposable lighters or Christmas trees,

by Christ, they're entitled to them.

They're entitled to

any innovation technology brings,

whether it's ten per cent more of it

or 15 per cent off of it!

They're entitled to it.

They're entitled to one

of four important new ingredients.

Why should anyone have to clean their

teeth without important new ingredients?

Why the hell shouldn't they

have their CZT?

How dare some snotty Marxist carbuncle

presume to deny them it?

They love their CZT!

They want it! They need it!

They positively adore it!

By Christ, while I've got air

in my body, they're going to get it!

They're gonna get it bigger

and brighter and better!

I'll put CZT in their

margarine if necessary,

shove vitamins in their toilet rolls.

If happiness means the whole world

standing on a double layer

of foot deodorisers,

I, Bagley, will see that they get them!

I'll give them anything

and everything they want!

By God, I will!

I shall not cease

till Jerusalem is builded here

on England's green and pleasant land!

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