Almost ten years ago, I was working at friends of ED — a web design book firm. The imprint is still going, but is owned by an American publisher rather than two brothers who set up shop in Acock’s Green. For a couple of years it rode the “creative” wave of flash design, which in effect gave us staff free reign to surf the web looking for weird shit — the thinking behind it being that the odder stuff was popular, the designers became “stars” of a sort and they’d sell more books. Which mean that a great deal of work time was spent colouring the office air blue with sweary flash toys — Britney’s Naked Cat-o-phone, Buffy’s sweary keyboard and so on (seriously, not at work — unless you work in Shoreditch).
That might have been why the company went under, that and the idea that books needed to be of a certain length (even tho’ they contained almost no useful information, except being filled with the names of people who’d played for Watford in the eighties as some sort of in-joke).
The master (and indeed New Master
All toghether now, “You Are A …”