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Once in every generation …

“He’s an idiot.”

I was too new to the board to offer Smythe a flat contradiction, but as I joined him at the window I suggested tentatively

“There might have been something in it?”

For a moment we watched Perks make his way disconsolately down the street, a box of belongings cradled forlornly in his arms, and then Smythe turned on me.

“Something in it? Get the marketing boys behind an idea like that and it’d go like a bloody bomb.”

His famous enthusiasm flared, but it was undercut by a note of nostalgia.

“But then where would we be, eh lad? What about our other lines?”

He saw my confusion and, patting me on the shoulder, steered me to the door.

“It’s time you saw the museum, lad. There’s good ideas, d’you see, and then there’s ideas so good they’d put us clean out of business … ”

Four weeks running I’ve written something that was either too late for VisDare, or too long, or both, so this week, on my second attempt, something rather tangential …

You know the drill by now – follow this link to see a darling wee baby spork and to find out what wild fantasies it spawned.

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