Book 51: "Something Rotten" by Jasper Fforde
Friday, June 2nd, 2006 19:38![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittiwakeThe CEO took a small forkful and put it in his mouth. His eyes opened wide in shock and he spat it out. The footman passed him a glass of water.
'Disgusting!'
'I agree, sir,' replied Jarvis, 'almost completely inedible.'
'Blast! Do you mean to tell me we've bought an entire continent with a potential food yield of ten million penguin units per year only to find we can't eat any of them?'
'Only a minor setback, sir. If you would all turn to page seventy-two of your agenda . . .'
All the board members simultaneously opened their files. Jarvis picked his report up and walked to the window to read it.
'The problem of selling penguins as the Sunday roast of choice can be split into two parts: one, penguins taste like creosote, and two, many people have a misguided idea that penguins are somewhat "cute" and "cuddly" and "endangered". To take the first point first, I propose that as part of the launch of this abundant new foodstuff there should be a special penguin cookery show on GoliathChannel 16, as well as a highly amusing advertising campaign with the catchy phrase: "P-p-p-prepare a p-p-penguin".'
The CEO nodded thoughtfully.
'I further suggest,' continued Jarvis, 'that we finance an independent study into the health-imbuing qualities of seabirds in general. The findings of this independent and wholly impartial study will be that the recommended weekly intake of penguin per person should be . . . one penguin.'
'And point two?' asked another board member. 'The public's positive and non-eatworthy perception of penguins in general?'
'Not insurmountable, sir. If you recall, we had a similar problem marketing baby seal burgers, and they are now one of our most popular lines. I suggest we depict penguins as callous and unfeeling creatures who insist on bringing up their children in what is little more than a large chest freezer. Furthermore, the "endangered" marketing problem can be used to our advantage by an advertising strategy along the lines of "Eat them quick before they're all gone!'"
'Or,' said another board member, '"Place a penguin in your kitchen - have a snack before extinction.'"
'Doesn't rhyme very well, does it?' said a third. 'What about: "For a taste that's more distinct, eat a bird before it's extinct?'"
'I preferred mine.'
Jarvis sat down and awaited the CEO's thoughts.
'It shall be so. Why not "Antarctica - the new Arctic" as a byline? Have our people in advertising put a campaign together. The meeting is over.'
After the slight disappointment of book three, "Something Rotten" was a wonderful ending to the series. After two and a half years hiding out in the Book World, Thursday Next has taken leave of absence from her job in Jurisfiction and is back in Swindon, trying to get her job in SpecOps back, avoid being killed by a professional assassin, get her husband uneradicated, and sort out childcare for her two-year-old son, Friday.
Meanwhile she also has to ensure that the Swindon Mallets win the Superhoops croquet tournament, which according to the prophecies of a 13th century saint is the only thing that will prevent Goliath from bringing about armageddon.
CROESO I GYMRU!
TAKE YOUR HOLIDAYS IN THE SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF WALES
NOT ALWAYS RAINING.
See your local tourist office for details.
'Disgusting!'
'I agree, sir,' replied Jarvis, 'almost completely inedible.'
'Blast! Do you mean to tell me we've bought an entire continent with a potential food yield of ten million penguin units per year only to find we can't eat any of them?'
'Only a minor setback, sir. If you would all turn to page seventy-two of your agenda . . .'
All the board members simultaneously opened their files. Jarvis picked his report up and walked to the window to read it.
'The problem of selling penguins as the Sunday roast of choice can be split into two parts: one, penguins taste like creosote, and two, many people have a misguided idea that penguins are somewhat "cute" and "cuddly" and "endangered". To take the first point first, I propose that as part of the launch of this abundant new foodstuff there should be a special penguin cookery show on GoliathChannel 16, as well as a highly amusing advertising campaign with the catchy phrase: "P-p-p-prepare a p-p-penguin".'
The CEO nodded thoughtfully.
'I further suggest,' continued Jarvis, 'that we finance an independent study into the health-imbuing qualities of seabirds in general. The findings of this independent and wholly impartial study will be that the recommended weekly intake of penguin per person should be . . . one penguin.'
'And point two?' asked another board member. 'The public's positive and non-eatworthy perception of penguins in general?'
'Not insurmountable, sir. If you recall, we had a similar problem marketing baby seal burgers, and they are now one of our most popular lines. I suggest we depict penguins as callous and unfeeling creatures who insist on bringing up their children in what is little more than a large chest freezer. Furthermore, the "endangered" marketing problem can be used to our advantage by an advertising strategy along the lines of "Eat them quick before they're all gone!'"
'Or,' said another board member, '"Place a penguin in your kitchen - have a snack before extinction.'"
'Doesn't rhyme very well, does it?' said a third. 'What about: "For a taste that's more distinct, eat a bird before it's extinct?'"
'I preferred mine.'
Jarvis sat down and awaited the CEO's thoughts.
'It shall be so. Why not "Antarctica - the new Arctic" as a byline? Have our people in advertising put a campaign together. The meeting is over.'
After the slight disappointment of book three, "Something Rotten" was a wonderful ending to the series. After two and a half years hiding out in the Book World, Thursday Next has taken leave of absence from her job in Jurisfiction and is back in Swindon, trying to get her job in SpecOps back, avoid being killed by a professional assassin, get her husband uneradicated, and sort out childcare for her two-year-old son, Friday.
Meanwhile she also has to ensure that the Swindon Mallets win the Superhoops croquet tournament, which according to the prophecies of a 13th century saint is the only thing that will prevent Goliath from bringing about armageddon.
TAKE YOUR HOLIDAYS IN THE SOCIALIST REPUBLIC OF WALES
NOT ALWAYS RAINING.
See your local tourist office for details.
