I am at lunch with the Very Important Man who has the ear of
Government when it comes to professional business services. But it is OK because there are other patent
attorneys there, as well as the Pee and the EyePeePee and the Chief Eggsek, so
I do not have to say much and when I do there are plenty of people to kick me
under the table.
It is a posh lunch.
The Very Important Man has a remote control at his side to summon in the
next course whenever he gets bored with my conversation. When we run out of courses he will summon
Security.
We tell him about what we see on the horizon for the UK’s IP
professions. I am glad that we have just
put together our Magnificent Manifesto, because this shows that we actually
have been up in the crow’s nest with our telescopes recently rather than
mumbling grumpily below deck like we used to.
During the discussions, I engage in a private battle with
the posh lunch. This raises one or two
questions in my mind. How, in polite
company, are you supposed to handle turnip balls? What kind of
person has time to fashion perfect
spheres out of flavourless root vegetables?
And what happens to the rest of the turnip? Are the nation’s food banks overflowing with
turnip ball peripheries? These are first
world questions, I know, but right now I could do with some answers. I do not want to launch a turnip ball into
the lap of the Very Important Man just when the others are telling him that the
IP profession is crucial to the economy.
No comments:
Post a Comment