[an hour later]
Geoff: "Right boys-" [passes out mochaccinos] "-get those down your necks and get your laughing gear to flapping. Laurence, hit me!" [does pelvic thrust]
Laurence: "Well boss, it's washing powder. And despite all this new-age man bollocks, well it's still a bloody woman's job. And women like cute kids; they also, and I looked this up on a genetics site on the interweb, they also lack the basic faculties to know when they're being patronised. So my campaign splices the cute kid with the patronising message."
Geoff: "Vile! I love it. Go on."
Laurence: "Well, you see this cute kid, yeah, and he's in the kitchen, yeah, and he's making this absolutely facking horrible mess. He's spilling milk on the floor, the fridge door's open, there's shit everywhere! And you're thinking "His Mum's gonna facking kill him" but get this - he stuffs all this shit onto a tray and brings it up to his Mum's bedroom! That's when the caption comes up and it's gonna facking slay you."
Geoff: "Hit me with your rhythm stick Lar!"
Laurence: "It says 'It's not dirt - it's breakfast in bed'! Yeah? Yeah?"
[they all guffaw]
Geoff: "LOVE it."
Laurence: "I've even got the music sorted - it's 'Be young, be foolish, but be happy'. The music that makes grown men want to stab pencils in their ears rather than listen to another second. 'Don't facking have a freak-out Mum, he's just being cute and you can use our washing powder to make everything right!' Dozy facking bints will slug it down like them geese what gets used for foie gras."
Geoff: "Them's ducks, Lar. But facking bravo my son. Simon! Yoghurty bollocks, if you please."

Simon: "Well boss, I might as well tell you - my double-barrel is loaded and I've got kids in my sights."
Brett [pointing pretend gun]: "POW! Got the little bastard!"
[they all guffaw]
Simon: "Yeah! Anyway, yeah, let's say you're some facking prole and you're wheeling your trolley round the supermarket. What pressures your purchases more than a squealing runt?"
Geoff: "Not facking much. Go on."
Simon: "I want kids to want this yoghurty bollocks. I want them to facking want it and I want them to facking force their parents to buy it. So here's my plan, yeah? I show this kid knocking back a plastic pot of this gloop, and then yeah, it switches to this animated bit. The gloop turns into all these little fackers in rocket ships who are like, flying around the kid's body fighting infection with their laser cannons."
Geoff: "Yeah, cause nothing fights infections like yoghurty bollocks, eh?"
[they all guffaw]
Simon: "Yeah, good one! So the kid ends up thinking that if he drinks this shit, all his little yoghurty bollock men will fly round his little body fighting the nasty infections."
Geoff: "Nicer than nice Simon. And that leaves us with our little gas-guzzler and Brett. Speak, son, speak!"

Brett: "Okay. Now we all love our 4x4s. They facking look good, they afford us extra protection in the event of an accident, they allow us to look down the cleavage of nearby chicks in small cars-" [more guffaws from around the table]-"in short, they facking rock. But the nasty greenhouse brigade don't approve. Awwww Mister hemp-eater, I really will consider a more environmentally-friendly mode of transport just so the facking countryside remains nice and green. My arse."
Geoff: "Yeah."
Brett: "Fun people like 4x4s. And fun people have fun in 4x4s. So that's what I'm gonna show. Young successful people driving round in 4x4s having facking fun! But the music makes this one."
Geoff: "Dance-beat? Hi-NRG techno?"
Brett: "No, it's-" [snort] "-a punk-rock version of 'What a wonderful world'!"
Geoff: "You sick bastard! Yes indeed, I love it. Nice synergy too - happy wankers drive round in gas-guzzling 4x4s making shit of the environment while some punk band makes shit of a classic song. Boys, you make me happy. Now let us retire to the confines of a nearby hostelry for champagne, finger-food and the occasional bottom-pinch."
[more guffaws, howls and desk-pounding]