DIARY: HOTCAKES

If your employer enforces a no-drinking-at-lunchtime policy, you have to be very careful about being seen in the pub, as TDI’s Mike Long discovered a couple of weeks ago.

If your employer enforces a no-drinking-at-lunchtime policy, you

have to be very careful about being seen in the pub, as TDI’s Mike Long

discovered a couple of weeks ago.



Long-serving Long, a highly-rated sales pro who is known to sport the

’funeral director’ look, was seen skulking into a popular hostelry on

Brewer Street.



Doubtless he was just killing time before a meeting, but he looked a

little startled when his mobile rang. He was even more surprised when

the caller told him to look out of the pub window.



Imagine his consternation upon spying four of TDI’s customers sitting on

the other side of the road at Zilli Fish. The gaggle of poster

specialists - aware of TDI’s stance on daytime boozing - were chuckling

away at the guilty look on Long’s face.



’What are you drinking?’ demanded the caller. Long defiantly insisted it

was a Diet Coke. Perhaps that’s why he looked so embarrassed. Or perhaps

not.



Hotcakes’ utmost respect is due to one particular Zenith buyer, who

should probably remain nameless. While Hotcakes herself is far from

immune to a bit of clubland recreational activity, it seems she has a

long way to go to catch up with the buyer in question.



Flown out to Ibiza by the MTV posse, our heroine decided to go for it,

but maybe she overshot the mark. About 24-hours after she should have

returned to the UK, a colleague decided to phone up to find out where

she had got to.



It turned out she was ’waiting for a helicopter ambulance to airlift her

off the island’ because she ’could no longer move’. That, my friends, is

’avin it large.



Carat is not suffering the same dearth of graduates that others in media

seem to be, but Hotcakes wonders if it has dropped its standards.



The agency took its youngsters on an Emap-sponsored piss-up - or

’graduate training day’ as it prefers to call it - to charming local

hostelry The Newton Arms. A battle of the sexes ensued, in which the

drinking prowess of the male contingent was challenged by the females.

The new recruits were duly put into teams for a ’boat race’, that seems

to have consisted of downing six pints in 45 minutes.



Sadly, the men were on the wrong end of a sound thrashing. Little Glenn

’Lambykins’ Davies, with one of the feeblest performances of the day,

spent the afternoon back in the office throwing up.



Hotcakes worries for the future of our once great industry.



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