By Dan Burkitt

Johnny Blackpencil Part II: Big Pencil Energy

What’s new, Johnny I hear you ask.

Well, let me tell you. It’s all systems go on the S. S. Johnny Black-P. I am going warp speed straight into the minds of everyone who sees my ads. Communications so good they’ll make you forget your own name. Can you feel a tingle in your spine? That’s my Portfolio Brief Two. You didn’t even know what a self-invest personal pension was and now you’d stab your own mother to get one. That’s what’s new.  

How do I do it? Well pull up a chair, grab a drink, kick off your shoes, get comfortable, and I’ll give you the secret.  

I follow the systems – I’ve got more badges than the boy scouts. All based on a rock-solid proposition. I build concrete foundations.  And then every badge gives you wood. You’ll be throbbing. I’m throbbing just thinking about them. God I’m good at this.

Then I execute. I bring down my huge axe on to the head of the brief. A nice, clean execution. I craft it. Gorgeous craft. Craft you’ll want to lick. I deliver. Every time. Flawlessly. I am the one who knocks. I am an adobe wizard. I can play that software like a musical instrument. I’m a virtuoso. You’ve seen it. Of course, you have. And you want more. More executions, more craft. More Johnny. Well don’t worry there’s plenty more coming.

And I can tell I’m one of Marc’s favourites. It’s the way he looks at me, like he’s looking into my soul. I melt when he looks at me like that. I’m a puddle on the floor. But I’m his puddle. That’s what I want to be. And I want him to get down and all fours and take a gulp. I want him to drink me down. And he does.

But look, it’s not always easy being me. Sometimes it’s hard. I come in every morning and I see people glancing over at me. They whisper and snigger. I get it, it’s obvious. Jealousy. It’s not a good look, guys. And frankly it’s getting a bit stale.

Let me tell you a story. When I was about five years old, I won every event at Sport’s Day. Of course, I did. Egg and spoon, sack race, running, jumping, hopping. You name it, I smashed it. Won them all. And the other kids hated me for it. They shunned me. I was sat in the field with all my medals, alone, completely alone. And at that moment I understood the price of success – social isolation. People hate winners. And I am a winner.

It doesn’t bother me. I’ll just put in my air pods, crank up the volume, and carry on winning. I don’t need anyone else. I am a single. A single golden god. Bow down before me. Get on your knees and bask in my creative glow.