Some you win, some you lose...

While out at Westfield yesterday evening, I ventured into HMV and picked up a few bits of entertainment for the idle moments I'm aiming to avoid during my time off work next week. Two new Wii games and one DVD, specifically Another Code: R, Okami (finally!) and the UK release of the movie based on the OniChanbara (aka Bikini Zombie Slayers) games, Chanbara Beauty: The Movie.

I dared to watch the latter this evening, as it appears that Burn Notice has skipped this week's schedule.

I was... disappointed on many levels. OK, sure, I could hardly expect a Japanese movie based on a videogame to include the kind of gratuitous T&A the subtitle alludes to... but the darned thing is an 18 Certificate and, aside from the blood splashes on the camera - a trademark of the games - it's probably one of the tamest zombie movies I've ever seen... not to mention one of the silliest (for example, the zombified version of Gogo from Kill Bill, complete with spikey-ball-on-long-chain weapon). And, I'm sorry, but the rose tattoo on the protagonist Aya's arm was quite clearly peeling toward the end.

I'm not even sure it attempted to follow the plot of any of the games, or if it was intended as a prequel - certainly the conclusion of the film seemed to be leading into the Wii version of the game.

There was barely a hint of peril to be seen throughout, until the gun-toting biker babe found herself overwhelmed by the undead... and she could have been saved had Aya dropped into Rage Mode but a moment earlier. But then, seeing her comrade overwhelmed is what triggered it, so perhaps that's a circular argument.

Sadly, even the comedy sidekick didn't help matters - he wasn't inept enough, and certainly wasn't particularly funny... And the sorry story of his sister carried very little weight.

On the upside, I started playing Another Code: R shortly afterward and, with expectations suitably lowered by the movie, I found it remarkably entertaining. In many ways, it's probably not quite enough of an upgrade on the DS version (D-Pad controls seem almost an afterthought compared to the clickable on-screen arrows, and the pointing interface just screams 'stylus')... but the story is good so far... if a little predictable.

It comes across like a combined 'interactive mystery comic book'/reading course - the language and the use of repetition suggests that the player is intended to read out loud (amusing, considering I decided to get this game after watching a Let's Play on YouTube, where the teenage Player was barely literate, and unable to pronounce much of anything that used more than two syllables). I've not played very far yet, but the 'mild peril' the protagonist has experienced is 'so far, so teen drama', including implicating herself in a robbery, and having to prove her innocence by presenting photos that - if the player is playing attention - were taken at the opportune moments shortly before she is cornered.

The strangest thing about it is that it apparently never saw a Stateside release... which probably explains why the English translation is so very... English. There are 'packets of crisps' rather than chips... and much of it seems to be written as a means of instructing teenagers - or, more likely, younger kids - on the importance of politeness and tidiness

Not that that's a bad thing. So many really need it...

Entertaining

This week being a down week - no deadlines - the traditional 'Training Sessions' have commenced. Not, however, the usual kind, where I get to sit with whoever thinks they need to learn something while everyone else dosses about. Oh no, this time, everyone gets to train someone.

In some cases - most notably one of our Ukrainians - the very idea of them training someone else fills me with a kind of dread rarely associated with anything that might happen in an office environment. Maybe I'm overreacting... Maybe I need to lighten up... but the prospect of people whose grasp on the software we use is shakey at best teaching others how to use said software is just a recipe for disaster.

But I concede that I just don't have time to do it all myself... and telling people I'll teach them QuarkXpress or Photoshop or Illustrator, and then failing to do so because I keep having to do other things - which does happen, even when there are no deadlines - is probably worse than seeing them offered dubious training.

Today was also a half day... because, hey, there's nothing much to do till the week after next, and my boss had been talking about going to the Rude Brittania exhibit at the Tate Britain for a couple of weeks... and, by the by, the movie of 80's Saturday Early Evening Television staple The A-Team opened today.

So, in my boss's words, we experienced opposite ends of the cultural spectrum in one evening.

The exhibition was fantastic, and not just in comparison to the disappointingly tedious Exposed at the Modern. This show had focus. There was a point to it beyond the self-indulgence of any artist (though, to be sure, there were some pretty self-indulgent works around). Plus we got to see the two 'fighter planes as Art' installations... I honestly don't consider the 'work' the artist has done to have greatly improved - or in any way affected - the artistry of the aeroplanes themselves. They are beautiful machines. Painting a Sea Harrier (jump jets removed, strangely) as a harrier - feathers on the wings, beak on the nosecone - and displaying it in the harrier's characteristic nosedive is perhaps faintly amusing... The bodywork of the plane - the combination of form and deadly precise function - is the real art.

Rude Britannia, meanwhile, charted the rise of everything from satirical cartoons to 'naughty' postcards, and their development into the likes of Spitting Image and Viz. It was quite fascinating, and probably deserves more time than we were able to give it on the first sitting. Some of it was hilarious, some of it was bewildering... definitely worth another look sometime.

Westfield was the destination for our movie this evening, in their long-delayed multiplex cinema. It's the first time I've seen a movie there and, in the main, I was impressed (never even consider going near their toilets, though... Some cinemas are bad, so I tend to avoid them all, but my boss found a real horror story going on in the ladies').

The movie does just about everything you'd expect - almost non-stop action with a very light plot, crazy stunts, and the kind of twist that smart-mouthed teenagers who can't keep their gobs shut will happily blurt out, spoiling things for everyone else a fraction of a second before the movie presents its own revelation. The cast is pretty good - Liam Neeson generally being watchable, Sharlto Copley continuing his rise to Hollywood stardom (expect him to appear in a RomCom soon), and the other two leads being more than adequate for their parts. The story is nothing new or daring - it brings the team together, presents the reason for their courtmartial, follows their escape and eventual revenge/redemption... before carting them all off to prison again, just so they can escape for a second time.

The presentation was intriguing - keeping away from any echoes of the TV series (destroying BA's van in the opening few minutes, just after introducing the character), it had large captions splashing over the screen to introduce its characters (somehow missing the name Templeton when introducing Lt 'Face' Peck, unless I missed it in all the comic book stylings), and slipped into starkly halftoned images for the outro, which covered the same old ground as the TV series' intro.

It was a lot of fun, and a very entertaining way for the cinema to shift popcorn... and, sometimes, that's all a movie needs to be.

I wonder what it says about me...

...That part of my last night's dream involved waking up in my own bed (after a weird dream-within-the-dream, thank you so much Mr. Nolan), going into my own bathroom to get ready for work, and finding that the shower had been replaced... by a pair of cats.

The cats were searching for something.

Perhaps the shower.

I'm just glad there wasn't anything about my teeth falling out...

My boss today took me and my counterpart from the other team to lunch, aiming for the Fulham branch of the wonderous Bodeans but, finding it closed until the evening, ending up in the small Vietnamese restaurant opposite. We spoke almost fondly of the 'characters' (read: nutcases, morons, bullshitters) we'd worked with over the years - evidence of a growing sense of nostalgia for the times when it all seemed so certain that things would probably always keep ticking on, long before the idea of redundancies came up - and concluding that, in many ways, it was probably good that it was all over... Or, at least, that it will be in 6 months.

There are many other opportunities out there... our current employers simply do not deserve the team they have in London.

I saw the results of the exit interview of a recent departure, who took the opportunity to talk shit about our boss (bad people skills? Hardly. Bad moron skills, maybe. Low tolerance for ineptitude and laziness, certainly), and complain about the lack of training... If her training was in any way lacking it was because she was trained by a friend who didn't take the job seriously. Her training was not lacking, however. What was lacking was any common sense, and any desire to make an effort for anyone other than herself.

On Contemporary Reimaginings

It is without doubt true to say that some TV concepts should be left well alone. Some would never work for one reason or another (TV budget, time constraints, etc), some have been done to death in one form or another, still others were done perhaps just once before, but done so quintessentially, so perfectly, that any attempt to recreate or - I scarcely dare suggest - better the original will, by its very nature, contains the seeds of its own doom.

On the subject of such unworthy enterprises, we have the 'Contemporary Reimagining'. When it's done well, with respect to the source material and the audience, it can be turn out brilliant - consider, if you will, the Hollywood trend of turning Shakespeare or Brontë into 'teen drama'... going as far back as West Side Story. It can be good... but such instances are rare and precious.

Which, sadly, brings us to Sherlock - BBC1's Sunday evening detective drama, that brings Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's most famous creations to life in contemporary London.

Oh dear.

The concept alone should have had me running for the hills, but my morbid curiosity got the better of me, as it is wont to do. Between the catty portrayal of Holmes (light on inspiration, heavy on sarcasm and high-tech web wizardry) by the splendidly named Benedict Cumberbatch, an unlikely Martin Freeman as his Doctor John Watson (fresh from Afganistan, with a House-inspired psychosomatic limp and a convenient case of post-conflict trauma - cue 'flashback' scenes that made Afganistan look remarkably like one of the leafier suburbs of London), and Mark Gatiss not only writing (I'm sure he's capable of better) but turning up to play Sherlock's dubious brother Mycroft (with the subtle and possibly deliberately misleading implication that he might also be Moriarty), there's little to recommend this as a series.

I am a little surprised that a writer as good as Mark Gatiss would fall into the trap of alluding to homosexuality - as if any man who expresses no interest in women must be gay... even if he expresses no interest in men either. Furthermore, I am certain that toning down the nature of Holmes' addiction was a requirement of Aunty Beeb, rather than something Gatiss thought was a good idea (nicotine patches? Really? They couldn't have had him doing Cocaine in the pilot, at least?). However these details are made trivial, in the grand scheme of things, by a poorly conceived 'mystery', an unlikely killer, a sequence of discoveries that are more random and fortuitous than intuitive and logical, and a predictable denouement. Holmes himself is played more or less as he is seen by the Police - an arrogant sociopathic 'freak' - while those same Police quickly illustrate to the audience why Inspector Lestrade has to rely on Holmes so often - they are a bunch of useless, argumentative adolescents. Martin Freeman's portrayal of Watson comes across much like any other character played by Martin Freeman - another one who can do better, given the right material.

I suppose my potential enjoyment of anything Holmes will be forever tainted (not the right word, but I'm tired) by Jeremy Brett's version, which may never be bettered. Brett brought something to the role that no other actor has managed before or since - he had all the brashness and cold arrogance of Sherlock Holmes, and also managed the vulnerability of a semi-reformed addict, the ennui of a brilliant man with little to occupy his time save the occasional baffling crime, along with the seldom-seen humility of a genius who knew all-too-well that even he was fallible. When Jeremy Brett delivered his precise analysis of a character, be they client or foe, it sounded like observation and deduction. When Benedict Cumberbatch tried the same, it sounded somewhere between a shopping list and a bitchy put-down. Jeremy Brett could switch from calm and still to manic and animated with the barest hint of a facial tic in between... And, his quick and clever smile contained just the right component of sneer. Benedict Cumberbatch's Holmes is a dick.

Then again, how can one take Sherlock Holmes seriously if his partner will be documenting their exploits not for the newspapers, but for his Blog.

Disappearances

Shortly after I arrived at work today, I learned that yet another of the old guard on the Sales side had been... disposed of. My boss said it reminded her of part of the leaving speech delivered by one of our Copy Controllers a couple of years ago - that working there was like being in Cuba, the way people would suddenly vanish.

Strangely, I don't remember it ever being quite like this but I had to point out the most significant difference between the kind of 'disappearance' one might experience in Cuba, and those we've experienced in our office: I'm pretty sure someone in Cuba would give a damn about those who disappeared.

I don't mean to be rude, but - with one notable exception - the new management have displayed impeccable judgment in who they dispose of. This latest one - a 'Commercial Director', or some other such WTF job title - had most likely burned out years ago. Back in the day, he refused a promotion because he considered it more important to spend time with his family than it was to ascend the greasy pole in the office. I respected him for that decision.

Sadly, it didn't last... He took up a position as one of the Commercial Managers, wangling himself a sideways transfer only a short time before the remaining Commercial Managers were made redundant. From thence, he took up a position so vague in its requirements that he barely did anything to earn his inflated paycheque. He certainly didn't sell anything significant.

I wish I could say I'm sorry he's gone, but he made so little impact on me - for good or for ill - in all the time I worked with him, and did nothing to stave off, let alone reverse the decline of the magazines he worked on. The company truly is - or at least should be - better off without him

All that really bugs me is that I had a bet on with my boss and another colleague, on who would be next out of the door, and I picked someone else.

The rest of today was a bit on the crap side. The magazine that should have gone out yesterday has been postponed to tomorrow, but the latest news is that it will now stay open - as in not go to press - until this month's targets have been met. The new boss put out one of her fabulous 'motivational' emails, requiring everyone to cross-sell into this month's last two magazines, with no discernable result. So few salespeople were in today, and so many were obsessed with the impending closure of the South office, and welcoming its staff to our hallowed halls, that barely any new sales were made. That's basically half the problem with out staff.

I have about 8 pages worth of empty space that ain't getting filled very quickly and, while we now have more than two weeks before the first magazine of the next month's cycle, I can still see things going quite pear-shaped for the end of this month.

On the upside, I met with a representative of another Employment Agency specialising in my kind of work. It didn't get off to the greatest start - we were both hanging around, not quite staring at each other, before she decided to phone me. I might have guessed who she was based on her appearance - I was expecting someone well-dressed, with a medium-sized handbag, which she most definitely was - were it not for the bag of shopping she carried. Then again, as I told her at the end of the interview, the last time I spoke to someone from an Agency, I was her last interview before she went on holiday... and she had her luggage with her.

The meeting showed me how much of my line of work I've never been involved with, and how many more layers of detail some other publications might have in their procedures. Still, I'm pretty bloody good at what I do, and she reckoned things will pick up in the next month or so, so I'm pretty hopeful that something interesting will turn up. Then it'll be me disappearing...

Connections

A while ago, at the urging of my boss, I joined the not-specifically-Social Networking site, LinkedIn. It's kind of wierd, in that it suggests that it's a Professional Networking site, and yet it allows you to link to your blog, your Twitter feed, etc.

Now, consider the kind of things people put in their blogs, or throw up (no apologies for that turn of phrase) onto Twitter.

Why, in God's name, would someone want to link their personal blog, their personal Twitterings, to a site that puts professionals in contact with each other? Why run the risk that someone who might be interested in employing you would read some less-than-complimentary posts about your current co-workers, your boss, your musings on the subtle change on flavour on Wotsits, or some misguided outpouring of semi-intellectualised 'emotion', etc?

Going by the stupidity we've had in our office - people sacked because they've taken time off work claiming a bereavement, only to be caught out posting holiday snaps on Facebook, or those (rather generously, in my opinion) let off with a warning for telling the world that they only tolerate their menial job and their intellectually stunted colleagues because of the free holidays they get as a perk - why would a Professional Networking site offer this in the first place?

I'm beginning to wonder if the nightmare scenario of being 'Interviewed by Facebook' is actually coming to pass... or if it already has: "Yes, I read your resumé... you're certainly qualified... but I'm a little disturbed by your fixation on that girl you see on the way to work, and the unresolved issues with your dead pet ferret, so I'm afraid we won't be giving you the job... Plus, we do feel it's a little tacky to tell your best friend that you're going on a business trip when you're actually going camping with his girlfriend."

I've never really been one for networking. While it's true to say that every company I've left has gone belly-up sometime afterward, there's no real connection between the two events. I've never had a reference and I tend to rely on serendipity for job offers. It's a remarkably silly tactic, but one which has actually served me well - assuming I'm happy to carry on in my current field, that is.

I guess, in my own way, I'm coasting. Taking the path of least resistance, as I normally do. I don't know what I really want to do with my life so, to paraphrase Hoban Washburn, I float like a leaf in the wind. Bizarrely, this behaviour is completely at odds to my norm: when travelling, for example, I have to have each step planned fairly meticulously - notes are often tapped into my cellphone - before I take the first step.

So, with something as - technically - important as my career, why am I so lackadaisical?

I guess part of it is the broad separation I keep betwixt 'Work' and 'Real Life', even though the former surely has an impact on the quality of the latter, in both directions. I feel no connection between what I do in the office and what I do at home, on holiday, etc... Perhaps more pertinently, I feel no connection between who I am in the office and who I am outside.

I suspect this is a flaw... There must be some connection, because it is me in the office, doing my job, and it is me outside, living something approaching a life. I accept that much of the separation is deliberate, and by design. I do not wish to allow colleagues to become friends, by and large... Most are not worth the effort. But I am beginning to feel a little concerned that this has become the default state.

And, really, how much 'effort' is there to being friendly? It's not as if being a dick is easier...

What's the big idea, Mr. Nolan?

I refer, of course, to the movie Inception.

At close to three hours long, I was surprised by how fast-paced the movie was. It really never lets up, leaping from one dream to the next, spending very little time in reality, and playing with the audience by frequently playing with its characters' perception of reality. The whole thing hinges on one very simple point... which isn't revealed until quite late in the movie... and then the film cuts to credits before delivering its punchline, leaving the audience to wonder exactly what was real. You could spend hours arguing "but what if..." and "but what about..." and still not come up with a reality you're entirely comfortable with. Excellent stuff... and I'm very likely to watch it again at least once. Definitely one to pick up on DVD.

I particularly liked that the technology of dream invasion was never explained - it's just there. You see it working, and there's no need to know how it works.

The rest of today's outing was a little disappointing - as usual, I was hoping to pick up some new-ish Wii game or another... but nothing really caught my fancy. I was surprised by how many second hand copies of Monster Hunter Tri were clogging the shelves at Computer Exchange, but I guess some folks just don't like putting in the number of hours that MH3 requires. Never before has it been so true to say "it's not a game, it's a way of life".

This has been a pretty good weekend, on the whole - from the evening out on Friday, through yesterday's surprisingly good Film and Comic Con, and today's excellent movie... The best way to ease out of one week and back into the next.

The Weekend Begins...

Interesting end to the week. Very draining, all told, particularly when my Thursday magazine - all 176 pages of it - came together in the space of about 2 days because of the lateness of the Editorial. On Tuesday, my designer was still waiting on 20+ pages worth of stuff. She also got shouted at by the Editor because of her use of a texture in the background of something or the other. Possibly not 'what the magazine is all about', but certainly not worth shouting about. My boss is getting quite tired of that Editor, and so has arranged a meeting with the Senior Manager on the Production/Editorial side and the Senior Editor to complain that, while people are supposedly 'aware of the problem' and that it's all being 'looked at', nothing has actually been done... and the Senior Editor's repeated (literally every month) assurances that "it'll be better next month" have counted for precisely nought.

After work, I went off to the Tate Modern, for the exhibition called 'Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the Camera'. It had passed me by completely that one of the Property Salespeople at work had been talking about it during the week, and had dismissed it as "pornography, all the way through". While there was certainly some nudity involved (OMG! Nekkid penis! Boobies!), none of it was remotely pornographic - simply a selection of photographs (in one of the 7/8 rooms of the exhibition) taken while people were performing sex acts. There's an important difference.

For one, much of this exhibition was utterly tedious. I'm sure the 'artists' found their own photographic hijinks appropriately thrilling and/or amusing but, to an outsider, the 'projects' were without focus (no pun intended) and generally quite inane. It didn't tell me anything about the human condition, or reveal anything of the innermost thoughts of the subjects. One series of photos were taken of occupied homes in the early hours, when all their shutters were closed and curtains drawn. The artist supposedly hoped to sell the photos to the occupants of those houses. He obvious didn't realise how creepy his idea was.

Or maybe he did. Strange folks, artists.

Today, I trotted along to the London Film and Comic Con, at Earls Court 2. I've only been to one or two of these, and the previous one(s) weren't too impressive but, having found this year's early London Expo to be a complete bust, I figured it'd be worth giving it a shot.

Organised by the folks behind Collectormania, it boasted a similarly bewildering selection of guests, including the Right Honourable Sir William of Shatner. Not that I was there for the stars, or the potential autographs.

Oh, no. I was there for the shopping.

I wasn't expecting much, but I was exceedingly pleased with what was there. The usual suspects - Retro GT and Genki Gear - put in their welcome appearances (so tempting to get the Turboload Tape T-shirt from the former... and possibly a new Speccy T-shirt), and one of the good TransFormers stockists was on hand to supply me with my haul for the show - Leader Class movie Starscream (awesome!) and Voyager Class Payload (aka G2 Long Haul - actually far preferable to the movie Long Haul as Payload's paint job is infinitely better, and evokes the G2 Constructicon perfectly), and also deliver the news that Auto Assembly is very close to beating it's own attendance record, set last year. Weekend Entry now seems to be the only option, should I wish to attend. I'm still considering the logistics... I know the train route, I know a nearby hotel (Rule One of conventions based at hotels: Never stay in that hotel), and I could easily trip up on the Friday night and come back on the Sunday afternoon...

I also picked up Megatokyo volume 6, and a Darkstalkers tribute artbook. Didn't spend half the money I'd taken with me, but the show was definitely worth attending. Strangely, the atmosphere was better than the London Expo - not so much elbow, all round.

Not quite so many Cosplayers, either... but ExCeL has much more room for them to glomp in.

The DC Comics gallery was pretty excellent, and Nintendo's Wii/DS stand showed only a couple of new games versus their stand at the Expo. Didn't stay for any of the talks/panels, but those things are rarely of much interest to me.

A Funny Thing Happened...

Yesterday I got to meet the senior manager responsible for my fast-approaching redundancy. Small fellow, all too quick with an ingratiating smile. Very obviously thick as two short planks, and utterly ignorant of the workings of a London-based publisher of magazines.

Fake tan.

I humbly submit that he survived the encounter. I did him no harm except, perhaps, psychologically. It seemed, to my untrained eyes, that the colour - natural colour, that is - drained from his skin beneath the fake bake as I opined on the inner wheels of our office.

Once I'd finished telling him about the utter insanity of our office, he asked me what I would do to improve things.

"Carte blanche?" I asked

When he replied in the affirmative, I offered my full and frank opinion: Sack 'em all and start again.

That surprised him.

He was, however, suitably impressed by me. He later told my boss he was surprised and disappointed that I wasn't moving to Norwich, since one of their techy guys and I would have made a good team. My boss pointed out that was quite likely, and that their techy guys were now using flightcheck settings I had described. Just so he knew who was the better techy guy, you understand.

After work, I met up with an old friend to see Predators. While it's never going to win any prizes for its narrative, and while the human characters do not develop in the slightest during the film (other than those who develop into corpses), I was impressed by the camera work - almost like a nature documentary in the way it framed the protagonists in wide landscape shots - the view into the world of the Predators - where the big, bad Predators we're familiar with are hunted by their bigger, badder cousins - and the nodding references to other films, particularly the original Predator and Aliens. My personal favourite was Hicks' line to Ripley, delivered by the only woman in the group, to the 'doctor': "When the time comes, I'll do us both."

From start to finish, it was very enjoyable... though the hulking Predator costumes are very clearly not made for swift, natural movement. The duel between the Yakuza guy with his ancient sword and the enormous Predator Hunter almost ran in slo-mo thanks to all that foam rubber. Still, props to the film-makers for staying true to the original and not resorting to CGI the way the Alien series did. The ending doesn't guarantee a sequel, and I'd prefer something indirect - a continuation of the mythos - rather than an immediate follow-up with any of the same cast. Definitely a worthy addition to the franchise, though it's unclear where it wants to sit in the franchise: it makes a clear reference to the events of the original, yet neglects to mention that this creature had also shown up in Los Angeles in the middle of a drug war.

Work Experience

In my day, you were lucky to get anything remotely related to your ideal career choice for your early High School Work Experience placement. The teacher that arranged mine was proud to tell me she'd got me "something with computers"... I can only assume that she phoned around local businesses asking "do you use computers?" because my placement, far from being anything to do with the creation of videogames, was in a business who made and supplied pumps of all shapes and sizes, and for all purposes. One of their pumps, they gleefully stated, could pump baked beans.

My later Work Experience placements were arranged with a little bit more input from me, and by a teacher who was much more clued up. I got myself one afternoon a week for several months at a videogame developer in Hackney and they, in turn, got me a 2 week placement at their publisher. I still wasn't doing anything massively important or interesting, or even getting a particularly good idea of how a software publishing in the mid-90s worked... and, frankly, they'd run out of things for me to do by the end of the first week... but at least it was the right field.

These days, however, it seems to be much better. This week, we had two Work Experiencers in Production. One the friend of the daughter of one of our Sales Managers, the other the son of a friend of our ex-MD's wife. And rather than having them do the filing for Copy Controllers, or making tea every five minutes, my boss gave them projects. One only did a single advertisement for herself, the other did a whole slew of advertising concepts - including mocked-up shots of the ads in situ, on buses, bus stops and massive hoardings - for one of my employers non-publishing ventures.

I must confess, my blood ran cold when my boss asked me to assess his work. Naturally I expected the worst - I've had more than 15 years of working with allegedly experienced, supposedly professional Designers who were crap... what on Earth would a teenager with little DTP experience produce? He'd used Photoshop and Flash, but not Quark, or even InDesign.

And yet, with a little tutoring from one of our best designers, he managed to produce three ad campaigns which perfectly fitted his brief... and his artworking wasn't half bad, either. Accuracy and alignment were a little off, but generally excellent for someone with no previous Quark experience.

In fact, we were all so impressed with his stuff, that my boss is thinking of (a) using it, and (b) sending this mere teenager's work to Head Office, as an example of what a good advertising campaign looks like. The one they recently sent out was shocking - not even good enough for a parish magazine, as far as I was concerned, let alone our hallowed pages.

I certainly think it'd be cool to use them - the boy took away with him a CD containing all the work he'd done during the week along with glossy printouts to show his teachers, but how brilliant would it be to publish one of his ads, and send him the magazine?

He even did three web ads... only Tiles but, frankly, what he produced was far, far better than what most of our Designers throw together for the web. He even kept within the file size limit on two of them, while the third should have been done with Flash, had it been available on the machine we placed him on.

I was honestly thrilled with the work he'd done, and it gave me a little bit of hope for Designers of the future.

As long as Design College doesn't ruin him...

I shall be popping back to Swindon this weekend for the Christening of my niece... Quite looking forward to it, as long as the travel isn't too bad... Just need to make sure I pack tonight!

The Third Season

One of the rare gems of American episodic television, Chuck, recently returned to UK screens (courtesy of Virgin 1) and, in some ways, it's more of the same funny stuff, more of the same mild peril, more of the same on/off/on, fake/real/fake romance. Sure it's ramped it up a gear by bringing Chuck's awesome-yet-hapless brother-in-law into the action... but up until tonight's episode, it's felt quite safe. Now they've started taking some risks with the format:

Chuck is becoming a spy (and, where 'spy', read 'cold-hearted jerk').

He's developed and burned his first asset, all in one episode... and yet, considering the nature of the asset burned, I suspect this is not the last we'll see of the Other Intersect. Consider that the first two seasons ended with something directly Intersect-related, despite the overarching storylines, and I wouldn't be surprised if Chuck's new friend returns for a showdown...

In other news, one of the recently-recruited managers got sacked by the new boss on Friday. Supposedly performance-related, but considering his team's performance improved dramatically once he started keeping tabs on them, that's just the excuse. He was the previous MD's last hire, and within his trial period. New Boss wants to start bringing in her own kind of people. More power to her - send some shivers down those slack Sales spines - but there were people far more deserving of the axe.

Rumour has it, she had someone lined up for the job as early as last Tuesday... Interesting. That said, according to rumour, she offered the job to perhaps the worst possible candidate internally.

I, meanwhile, contacted the wife of a colleague, who may have need of someone with my skillset. The opening isn't certain, however, so as well as hanging on to my CV, she's put me in touch with the people who have been sending staff her way... Useful contacts.

Shame that the 10-days-a-month job is already filled... That might have been useful for making a start on writing (yeah, right)... Bizarrely, the money for their 10 days was roughly equivalent to a full month with my current employers.

The Answer to a Question

For anyone who's ever wondered what Nine Inch Nails would sound like with a female singer, check out How To Destroy Angels and their eponymous, freely-downloadable debut EP. HTDA is Trent Reznor's 'other' band and, on the strength of this EP, very much one to watch out for.

The video to The Space in Between is truly awesome...

...but, bizarrely, after watching far too many Lady Gaga videos on YouTube, I find myself wondering what a duet between NIN and Lady Gaga would produce... Duelling pianos, anyone?