John O’Roarke, the Chairman of Horwich Farrelly, sits at the boardroom table with Rob Barrett, the firm's Managing Partner. They are due to launch the rebrand of the firm within the hour.

O’Roarke: I can't wait to see our new logo.

Barrett: It certainly cost enough.

O’Roarke: You get what you pay for. And this Saatchi fellow is the best in the business. Although he did design a dildo for Dentons and a cat's bumhole for Herbert Smith Freehills.

Barrett: Great. Wait, what did-

There is a huge explosion and the doors of the boardroom are blown off their hinges. O'Roarke and Barrett cower behind their chairs as debris rains down. Saatchi, for it is he, goosesteps through the smoke wearing an SS officer's uniform.

O’Roarke: What on earth is-

Saatchi: Silence!

Saatchi strikes O’Roarke across the face with the back of his hand, sending the chairman reeling to the carpet.

Barrett: Jesus shit-kicking Christ.

Saatchi: Have I got your attention?

Barrett looks around the smouldering boardroom. O'Roarke stares up in shock, his face wet with tears.

Barrett: Yes, but-

Saatchi: At what price? A fair question, worm, easily answered - no price is too high for the attention of millions of new customers.

O'Roarke lets out a sob.

Barrett: Why are you dressed like that?

Saatchi puts his hands over Barrett's eyes.

Saatchi: What colour is your little friend's tie?

Barrett: I can't recall.

Saatchi: What am I wearing?

Barrett: A Nazi uniform.

Saatchi (releasing him): Exactly. Do you want to be the forgettable tie of law firms, or remembered for a thousand years?

Barrett: Not if-

Saatchi: Behold your new logo!

Stunned silence.

Barrett: Is this a joke?

Saatchi: Only if you call four-quadrant brand recognition a joke.

O'Roarke: Mr Saatchi-

Saatchi: Lord.

O'Roarke: Lord Saatchi-

Saatchi: Apologise.

O'Roarke: Sorry?

Saatchi: Proceed.

O'Roarke: We can't have that as our logo.

Saatchi: You said you were on a budget.

Barrett: How is that relevant?

Saatchi: There's no copyright on this. It's sitting there. For free.

Barrett: Because it's a bloody swastika!

Saatchi: You don't like it.

Barrett:  No-one likes it. It's the most despised symbol in the world.

Saatchi claps his hands slowly.

O'Roarke: Are you alright?

Saatchi: I have a confession to make. That design was a ploy. It's an old adland trick. I show you something ghastly, and then you're a lot more receptive when I unveil the real design.

O’Roarke: Oh, thank goodness. That's a huge relief.

Saatchi: Behold your new logo!

Barrett: I don't understand.

Saatchi: If you had seen this one straight away, it would have seemed too edgy.

O'Roarke: Lord Saatchi, it looks like another swastika.

Saatchi: It is. But this one is blue.

Barrett: I don't care if it's tossing silver and gold. Fascist iconography has no place at our firm.

Saatchi: Actually it is the initials of your firm. I simply 'mengeled' them together. Here's what I started with.

Barrett: Wait. That's not bad. That could work.

Saatchi: No, that could never work.

Barrett: Why not?

Saatchi: Because now this is happening.

Saatchi tears up the design.

Barrett: Why did you do that?

Saatchi: Brand purity must be preserved.

O'Roarke (scrabbling around on the floor): Here, we could use this scrap.

Barrett: It looks like a close-up of a swastika.

Saatchi: No discount.

O'Roarke: We don't have any time to come up with something else.

Barrett: Damn it. We'll just have to hope no-one notices.

Saatchi:  Would you like to see your new slogan?

Barrett: I highly doubt it.

O'Roarke: I like it.

Barrett: No.

Barrett & O'Roarke: Security!

Two guards enter from either side of the room. Saatchi pulls a ripcord and a parachute flops out behind him.

Saatchi: Never fight a war on two fronts!

The furious strangler climbs out of a ground floor window and runs away down the road, secure in the knowledge that he leaves behind another satisfied client.