By Dan Burkitt

Johnny Blackpencil Part V – The Finale 

All good things must come to an end. What pathetic loser came up with that saying? Good things in my life never end. They go on and on and on endlessly. But time’s do change and they’re about to change in a big way for Johnny. 

I’m done with SCA. I’ve outgrown it, but that’s fine, that’s normal. I’ve got my placements lined up. Several, in fact. Top agencies, all making really top work, award-winning, life-changing, world-saving, you know the deal. I’m going to London, New York, Amsterdam, Tokyo. All over really, but I’ve done plenty of countries in my time so that doesn’t phase me. I’ll pick up the languages pretty quickly. 

But now, let’s pause for some self-reflection. 

Looking back on my time at SCA how do I feel? Predominantly, I feel an enormous sense of achievement. I’ve got my pencil and I’ve got my book. I’ve won the year. When I walked through those doors, I scanned around the room and I thought to myself, Johnno mate, you’ve got this, you’re definitely better than these little sardines, you’re a big old humpback whale coming up from the deep to swallow them in one swift bite. And that’s what I’ve done. 

The Dean said to us, your book is your gun, your rifle, your weapon, and you have to kill every other team, show them no mercy. And he looked me in the eye as he said it because he knew. He knew that I would follow his command and die on the battlefield, his hand in mine and my hand in his. His words hung in the air and I felt them penetrate my soul and I nodded and I said, yes, yes, yes, Mr Lewis, I will destroy them all. 

But more than that, I will be remembered. I am part of SCA folklore. I am one of the figures to be mythologised by The Dean, my story will echo around the pit, my bronze statue erected outside the front door right next to Tom & Tom. I am a living legend, rub my bronze foot and I will grant you good luck. I am Zeus at Olympia, tremble before me. 

It’s portfolio day next week. Not a big deal for me. I have so many placements already but I guess I’ll let people look at my book. They’ll want to know what they could have had. Page after page of gold. One offs, big campaigns, North Star Thoughts, unexpected channels, poetic copy, piercing insights, work that could be hung in the Louvre. The usual, really. 

So this is it. This is the last you’ll hear from me. Farewell, old friends, farewell. I’m on to bigger and better things. I will make something of my life, it will have been worth it. My life will have meant something. And until it has tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.