Delusions of grandeur

Hilariously, after a year or so of committed skiving, living on the smokers' balcony, being flung off accounts for being drunk around clients and posing a general health hazard, the MAM has decided that he is actually management material. He's petitioning VIPs like the chairman and CEO to be allowed to take over the senior creative position recently vacated by one of the ship-jumping rats.

Do we detect the influence of his new lady love in this sudden thirst for status? Picture the pillow-talk that must be going on: 'Darling, it's time they recognised how talented you are. You deserve to be a creative director. God, you practically carry that department, slaving away for 2 or even 3 hours a day. Give them an ultimatum - either they promote you and double your salary, or you walk out.'

That last bit is wishful thinking, but I think the gist is about right.

Seriously though, how insanely deluded can you get? Closeted in big offices in another wing of the building though they are, rumour of his misdemeanours must have filtered through to the upper echelons by now. The MAM is strictly downwardly mobile. Then again, I suppose stranger things have happened. Barely.