Italian cartoon executives sit around smoking cigars and quaffing olive oil and espressos from tiny crystal glasses. All are fat and sweating as they put the final plans in place for their new method of milking money.
"That'll do," they say. Over and over
"That'll do."
"That'll do."
"Should we spend more time on the animation?"
"No, it'll do, just leave it."
"What about the script?"
"Nah, leave it. Children are stupid."
"I know we needed a theme tune, so I just hummed something while I was sitting on the toilet thinking about nothing at all...what do you think?"
"That'll do."
"That'll do."
"That'll do."
Each department's first idea is taken and implemented without thought.
The only thing they are curiously insistent on is that the characters in it must be frighteningly thin and wearing as little as possible.
"Thinner! Thinner! Less clothes! Less clothes!" they begin to chant.
They begin to laugh a greased, proprietorial laugh. Their minds collectively return to their original pitch to the network: "What if Silvio Berlusconi wrote Harry Potter?"
"Friends, we have achieved all we set out to."
"That'll do," they say. Over and over
"That'll do."
"That'll do."
"Should we spend more time on the animation?"
"No, it'll do, just leave it."
"What about the script?"
"Nah, leave it. Children are stupid."
"I know we needed a theme tune, so I just hummed something while I was sitting on the toilet thinking about nothing at all...what do you think?"
"That'll do."
"That'll do."
"That'll do."
Each department's first idea is taken and implemented without thought.
The only thing they are curiously insistent on is that the characters in it must be frighteningly thin and wearing as little as possible.
"Thinner! Thinner! Less clothes! Less clothes!" they begin to chant.
They begin to laugh a greased, proprietorial laugh. Their minds collectively return to their original pitch to the network: "What if Silvio Berlusconi wrote Harry Potter?"
"Friends, we have achieved all we set out to."