The Delavigne Corporation Blog

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The Delavigne Corporation Blog

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Soggy messages in broken bottles

Hello everyone,

You'll be happy to know that your favourite intern has been promoted! Actually, it's not really a promotion, I'm just looking after the 'mail' while Polly is on holiday.

We receive all sorts of things, letters, parcels, pizzas, that sort of thing. But the most unexpected delivery - we seem to be getting quite a few messages in bottles running ashore at the office. Weird, right?

I've managed to carefully open the bottles by smashing them on the floor (despite the manual dexterity that my guitar playing affords me, my hands are far too weak to pull a cork out of a bottle). Once open, or lying on the floor in a million pieces, it's quite hard to read the soggy notes that were held within. All I can see is it is from someone in a British refugee camp in France. They are being horribly tortured, having to drink tea instead of coffee. The name at the end is always partly smudged and difficult to decipher: I can make out a 'BRI', or an 'A', then just a 'RIAN' in the last letter written in brown felt-tip on toilet paper. I have absolutely no idea who these mysterious bottles are from, but I'm pretty sure they are a pervert and I hope they will stop soon. I've disposed of all the bottles and seaweed and wet letters in the bin. That's what Brian would have done. I wonder how he's doing by the way?

Anyway, all this talk of messages in bottles has got me thinking of Message in a Bottle by The Police. It's strange how my mind makes connections sometimes. Sting might not be the nicest human being, but boy can he write a hit song!

For those who don't have a music O level, a quick summary. The lively C#minor verse structure modulates into a very exciting G major pre-chorus, building to a climax in E minor, which then exquisitely lands back in the tonic for a remarkably minimalist chorus, gently bobbing on the sea like a bottle returning to the surface for air. But don't take my word for it, listen below!

Until next time!

Thursday, June 29, 2017

No hard feelings

Hi Everyone,

Remember this?

I just wanted to say there's no hard feelings about last month's vote. You didn't want me to be the president of Europe and that's fine. I was of course a bit disappointed that I only got a few more votes than Krazy Gideon, the insane moderator who wasn't even running, but, hey, that's politics I guess. 

I have decided to withdraw from the public eye and concentrate on my original loves, photocopying and songwriting. You can expect a new album from me soon, accompanied by an extraordinarily hefty pile of xeroxed documents. It's what I'm good at after all. Well, I know how do some basic operations on the photocopier anyway. 

Maybe in a couple of years, I might try and be the president of my local chess club, but I'm not promising anything. 

Until next time, here's a song for you that goes towards capturing my unique sense of melancholy (sprinkled with flashes of unbridled insanity). Enjoy. 


Wednesday, May 24, 2017

A message from your future President

Okay, I know TV has tight schedules: programs are timed to the millisecond, and they are sometimes obliged to cut stuff out of broadcasts. However, Krazy Gideon's decision to leave out my comments from the recent presidential debate is, quite frankly, crazy annoying.

That's right, I made some very important comments on the environment. It is criminal that perspective voters were not allowed to hear what I tried to say, and above all, try and imagine what I might have said if had better communication skills.

Fortunately, a bloke who works in the VT room owes me a favour (I let him punch me in the face once), so he was able to give me a recording of this part of the debate.

Here it is, below, in its full, uncut glory. Powerful words at a time when others are not saying powerful words. Most presidential candidates don't even know any power chords on the guitar. I know 3!

There you have it. Unlike other candidates, I have a consistent policy on the environment: I don't really know what it is, and I don't know what to do about it. 

As I also proposed in the debate, I promise to firmly place cheddar cheese at the heart of Europe. I will usher in a glorious era of cheese and pickle sandwiches (with a generous helping of ready salted crisps to compliment the taste). There is not a metaphor here, I just really like this taste combination.


Thursday, March 30, 2017

Some Next Level Stuff

It's come to my attention that only a few Funky loyalists reader are staying faithful to this blog. Thus, I give you only a brief post to let you know that I will miss the robots: their dull, automaton eyes void of human feeling. Their occasional beeping sounds that won't stop until they are charged... I'm getting emotional just thinking of how emotionless they are.
Even though Edward and Brian destroyed my robot utopia, I hope that the entire staff learned something from these beautiful, soulless androids. I know I did. They taught me how to love again. And how to dance.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Talkin' Bout a Revolution

I heard from a little birdie (literally, I intercepted a pigeon) that there are strange things afoot at the Delavigne Corporation. There's talk of revolution, upheaval, rebellion, dissidence and protest. Frankly, that stuff is for the birds  (literally - I told that to the pigeon that's been flying through the office hallways).

I can't be bothered to involve myself in any of that political stuff because I'm sitting pretty, with my legs up on a desk watching old home movies of Susan Bliss. Don't ask me where I obtained them. Let's just say that it's easy to get weird stuff in the back alleys of Bangkok.

Ever since the robots arrived at Delavigne, life has taken a turn for the 'awesome' for yours truly - robots iron my suits, make my sales calls, attend my meetings and ocasionally tickle my #$^% with a feather. Now you know why I intercepted that pigeon.

Anyway, I don't know what Brian has planned, but I want no part of it. Politics and robots don't mix, I always say. Besides, what has revolution ever done for anyone? I mean, aside from the creation of democracy, or freedom from dictatorship?

What do you think, public at large? Revolution or status quo? I'm all ears. Send your pigeons to the comment box.


Thursday, January 26, 2017

Robo Dystopia

Greetings fellow humans,
(also hello to robot readers and of course the nanobots at the NSA)

Welcome to the robo dystopia. I for one welcome our new robotic bretheren, especially if they've got those same magic fingers that BrianBot possesses - Wowza, that Bot can shiatsu with the best of them. He gives my regular masseuses (masseese?) Olga and Yuriko a run for their money. Impressive.

Now that I'm relaxed and freshly massaged, I just want to echo my support for more robots in the workplace - but why stop there? Philip is lobbying hard for robots to move from the the boardroom to the bedroom, and Harold Warbuckle enjoys playing Russian Roulette with his cowboy bots. I say this can only end well - Humanity and robots are meant to live together in harmony and without complications or violence, I fail to see any scenario in which things might go wrong.

In conclusion: Bring on the robots! Bring on the jobs they will eliminate. Bring on corporate tax exemptions. Make Delavigne Great Again! ---

Whoops, sorry, I think a robot must have typed that last bit. I guess may be they're not to be trusted after all. Food for thought.

Thursday, December 29, 2016

Dream on


The hallucinations have stopped, I've just fallen down from the ceiling with a bump. The dream sequence is definitively over. The last of the foie gras has definitively left my body. I hope Bob Carter won't mind me vomiting in his desk drawer like that.

Like divorces, dream sequences are a staple of the Christmas season. Who can forget the ghosts that visit Scrooge in A Christmas Carol? George Bailey visiting a world in which he was never born in Frank Capra's It's a wonderful Life? The Wizard of Oz is pretty much 3 hours of dream sequence (or complete tosh) depending on how much mulled wine you've had.

Pretty f@%*ed up: Scrooge tripping next
 to his fire place in Dickens' A Christmas Carol

Ecstatic: James Stewart rejoices that his
dream sequence is over. Only 3 more hours of fim left to go.

Off their tits: Where would The Wizard of Oz be without foie gras?

But let's not dwell on the films of Christmas past. I've got some practical help for you. If you ever eat some dodgy festive food at work (let's face it, a lot of turkeys are stuffed more with mescaline than stuffing these days), here is some advice on how to handle your own dream sequence.

1. Don't panic. Take a few deep breaths and admire your broccoli hands. Your head might be spinning... in the opposite corner of the room. This is completely normal. Relax and enjoy your trip.

2. Verify your dream sequence. Ask yourself: "Am I dreaming?". If you open your mouth to answer and your soul drops out, this is probably a drug-induced dream sequence rather than an actual dream. Good news!

3. Don't pee. Perhaps the most important, you know in a real dream, when you need to pee, you pee in the dream but never in the bed? Foie gras-fuelled dream sequences are NOT like this. Apologies again to Hannah Benedict who is currently drying off in the stationery cupboard.

4. Enjoy yourself. Dream sequences don't come every day, so make sure you make the most of it. You'll probably get fired at the end of it so you might as well have a good time.

That's about everything. I did have some insights into the meaning of existence, but they seem to have evaporated with the last morsel of foie gras in my blood. Something to do with Freddy Mercury...

Anyway, it was nice tripping with you! Why don't you take drugs at work and tell me what happens?

Enjoy the rest of the holidays. See you in 2017!