Bob: “We did well this year, James. Profitable.”

James: “How profitable?”

Bob: “Few billion. We’re up.”

James: “Happy days! Happy customers?”

Bob: “Sorry?”

James: “Happy customers?”

Bob: “No idea. But the adverts we do have happy customers in…”

James: “…they’re actors. Not cust…”

Bob: “…so if you count those customers then yes! We! Do!”

James: “The call centres say customers don’t like the automated responses. And the fact that we don’t have enough people on the phones. And the waiting times. And the scripted responses. And the policies that protect us not them. And the different departments they keep getting passed to. And…”

Bob: “I’ve sorted that.”

James: “What, all of it?”

Bob: “Yep. All of it.”

James: “What you going to do?”

Bob: “Listen to this. Because we have automated responses, too few people, too long waiting times, scripted responses, policies to protect us not them, and disjointed departments, any one of these things could make customers feel that their call is not important to us. So my idea is to record someone saying, ‘Your call is important to us’. Then when they call and no one answers because their call isn’t important to us, we play someone saying, ‘Your call is important to us’. Then, they’ll think their call is important to us.

James: “So, they’ll think their call definitely is important to us, even though we show them their call definitely is not important to us by continuing to have automated responses, too few people, too long waiting times, scripted responses, policies to protect us not them, and disjointed departments, even though we made billions of pounds profit. Again?”

Bob: “Yes.”

James: “Brilliant.”

Here’s how to create a £500 pot of cash for a Slap-up Christmas Meal* for a family of 12. From thin air. Nobody buy the £2.50 Christmas cards. And don’t post them for £1.50 each.

Now, cards from my 0, 1, 2 ,3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 year old Izobel are amongst the most precious things I own. But others? Not really.

Have a think. Have a word. And away you go. Merry Christmas.

*I don’t know what a Slap-up Meal is. But it must mean ‘a good meal.’ Because it was a very desirable reward in The Beano when I was little. I always loved the sound of it.

For one of the three years I was at Newcastle Polytechnic, Johnny Charles lived in his one room, across the corridor from my one room, in high-rise student accommodation in Newcastle. Johnny was very, very old at the time. About 25. I was 18.

One Thunderbird (Red) fuelled night, I put it to John that, in relationships, all people do is use each other. Especially in boy/girl relationships. (Gay people hadn’t been invented in 1987, I don’t think). She gets what she can from him. He gets what he can from her. And that’s that.

John disagreed. John had a much more complex view of such things. And, of course, he was right.

However, I have learned that there is something true and good in this, ‘All people do is get what they can from each other’ notion. Depending on the focus.

What I mean is, if relationships are indeed about getting what you can. Then the other essential component is giving what you can. And (here’s the focus bit) it’s better in any relationship if each party focusses on giving more than getting.

To illustrate, over the years I’ve partnered with complementary businesses as follows. I’d gloat that I referred more to their business that they referred to mine. And when they were ahead, they would boast that they were the more effective referrer of clients that I was.

And I liked all that. Arguing about who was the more generous and helpful. Arguing about who boosted the top line of the other more effectively.

And we both agreed that, if you’re going to argue about anything on the subject of who gets what from any relationship. Argue about this.

On Sunday night I dreamed I was a stand up comedian, on stage for the first time. The curtain wasn’t a stereotypical heavy, deep-red velvet one, sweeping apart to reveal, well, me. Instead, I was slow-revealed behind a white vertical blind, crawling left to right.

As I came into the view of the audience, peeping between the part-open verticals, I spontaneously quipped that if there was a power cut, the show would never start. Also, I said ‘fucking power cut’ because I’ve seen comedians swear on the telly. I thought that might be the thing to do.

The audience did giggle, the laughter dying down as I watched the vertical blinds, eventually, decelerate, then stop when completely open.

Then, I just stood there. I couldn’t see the audience because of the lights, but they could see that I had no jokes. Not one. After 20 seconds or so, I looked at my watch. Mumbled a mumble. And, head down, quickly left the stage. I hid in a white tiled toilet cubicle. Sat, eyes-wide, on a brown wooden seat. Sweating.

There’s something I am doing right now that I am not preparing for as well as I could. I think that’s what this was about. I’m not sure. But it might just be the kick I need.

I write how I write.

When I started writing, a handful of people said my work was like Dave Trott’s work. So I took a look and I guess it is. A bit. Dave is waaaaay ahead of me when it comes to technical know-how, though. And depth of experience. And richness of story. And how palatable every sentence actually is. And consistency of subject matter.

So I watch on. From here. And I learn.

Something I have noticed increasingly though, when I read, is that there’s a volume switch when a writer writes well. With good writing, sometimes, the volume is up. When the writer has something vivid and braincatching to say. Other times the writer hums. Gently. Pulling us along to the louder parts. This contrast is important.

When I write how I write for a client, and a client edits it, they mostly make it worse because they turn the volume up too high for too long. If they were writing a song with me, they’d delete the verses. It’d be all chorus.

With good writing, sometimes, the volume is up. When the writer has something vivid and braincatching to say. Other times the writer hums. Gently. Pulling us along to the louder parts. This contrast is important.