The Back of Bracknell

Travelled to Bracknell yesterday with my agent to meet the publishers Prentice Hall who are, or perhaps that should be "were", interested in my new book on project management. What a god aweful place that is, and for a momment I thought of Alison on her beach in Turkey. I knew the day was going to be depressing when after emerging from some bombshelter/carpark I asked a stall holder where there was a Starbucks or simmilar, and he asked me what Starbucks was ! I could have cried. Personally I'd swap Surrey for Siberia any day of the week but the agent says I don't actually have to come here for him to be paid so not to panic, and produces a cardboard mug of some steaming Americano style coffee beverage from behind his back. I wipe away the tears and follow him to the brick and concrete bunker that passes as the publisher's HQ.

Three judges sit behind a desk and scowl at me. They tell me to get on with my pitch - luckilly they publish thesauruses and what with the help of these and the odd translation from my agent I was able to understand most of what they said. I was certainly happy to enthuse about the book but theirs looks were as blank as their cheque books.

"So what's special about your new technique ?"
"I'm not advocating a new technique" - my agent coughs,
"Sure, sure but what are you teaching them ...Whats the big message ?"
"I'm not teaching them anything, the message is to carry on as before...."
My agent coughs again and tries to interupt. "what my client means is....."
"Positive reinforcement eh.... I see- So how do they know which bits they were doing before were right?"
"No you don't see. It doesn't matter what they were doing before, however bad it was, my book says that was great. Everybody's great already, that's the point"

Everybody didn't look great and my agent forcefully ejected me from the room while he went back in to explain on my behalf. I shrugged called them idiots and lit my pipe and sauntered off down the corridor. Clearly these people weren't thinking straight, perhaps that constant alarm in the background had dulled their senses. It was as I was wondering about this that I was forcefully ejected from the building by a mad woman in a luminous yellow jacket. I was surprised to see my agent along with the panel of judges and two fire crews, already in the car park.

I can only assume that my agent was annoyed at himself for failling to adequately explain the intricacies of my book to the publishers as the journey back was in stoney silence appart from an occasional abusive shout when I lit my pipe in the car. It seems there will be no advance at this time and some mention of fines being deducted from royalties, whatever that means. To be honest I shall be happy to see the back of Bracknell.