Ray Sullivan Author: Rakuten

Showing posts with label Rakuten. Show all posts

Monday, 10 September 2012

Dancing With Amazon

When I launched Project:Evil at the end of July I set the price at free as an introductory price. I've done this before, notably with The Last Simple which had been set to free for months with relatively little interest. I like the idea of giving a few books away: it lets the early adopters a chance to try, perhaps to recommend. It's also a painless way to check if your product is working OK without asking consumers to pay for the privilege.

However, the only problem with this approach is that it seems impossible to get Amazon to play ball. I know, I'm probably a tad too small to persuade them to do anything, but I can see shed loads of free books listed, they even have a top 100 list for free books. They just don't let authors decide to list for free.

Unless, that is, they've taken the Amazon shilling and signed up for KDP Select. Regular readers will know that I'm a tad underwhelmed by Amazon's blunt attempt to bribe authors to give them monopolistic control over their books by pumping a fund to reward KDP Select members whose books get borrowed from the Amazon library. I'm not a fan of monopolies in general and really don't agree with bribery so I've chosen to refrain from joining. However, one of the benefits of being a KDP select member is that you can list for free four days a month.

Anyway, I got over the disparity, listed Project:Evil on KDP for $0.99 and on Smashwords (and therefore Apple, B&N,Kobo, WHSith, Sony etc) at $0.00. And it seems to have been quite a popular price point with literally hundreds of copies downloaded on Amazon and B&N that I know of - the eBook return figures are incredibly slow sometimes from some eBook sellers. There was an interesting side effect of the launch - The Last Simple was discovered and twice as many copies have been downloaded of that compared to Project:Evil over the same period.

With the launch of the BLOMI website I decided to lift the promotion - it had run for over a month and I'm pleased that there are a lot of you guys and gals out there who have had the chance to read a couple of my books for free, but it's time to move onwards. So on Saturday I instructed Smashwords to raise the price to the same level as Amazon, but realised that it does take time to take effect with the main eBook sellers - if you hurry you may find both books still listed for free for the next few hours.

So this morning I was a little surprised to open my Amazon sales account to see that four copies of Project:Evil had been purchased overnight, which is nice, and that they had been price matched to $0.00, which was unexpected. Now what I don't know is if Amazon stumbled across this, whether someone contacted them and if they did if it was sparked by me putting a price on Smashwords or not. Whatever the trigger, it is still being pulled as I'm heading for a hundred such price-match downloads today already. Obviously there's a word circulating somewhere in the US!

Anyway, I'm expecting the price match situation to continue for a few days until the other stores catch up with the price change, so if you've been thinking about downloading Project:Evil or The Last Simple and need it to be free then I'd suggest you take a look right now - I don't know how long this can last.

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Friday, 7 September 2012

Let The Battle Commence

Amazon revealed today that they will, finally, be releasing the Kindle Fire in the UK ready in time for Christmas. It was part of a much larger press release that includes new versions of the Fire, already the number 2 tablet in the US. Among the news was that Amazon are targeting iPad territory head on with a larger screen size.

This comes after a summer where Apple have hinted heavily that they will be releasing a seven inch iPad, a device that Steve Jobs strongly resisted - I don't know if he ever said 'over my dead body' but essentially that would appear to be the case.

It also follows the release of the Google Nexus, a seven inch tablet that the new Fire is competing against pound for pound, dollar for dollar. It's a very competent device too - I've been using one since its release.

So, running up to the holiday season, UK consumers have a plethora of tablet devices to choose from, or hint to their partners about.

There's the iPad, of course, leading the pack. The advantages of the iPad are many: it has a brilliant screen, it works very smoothly, it is well established as the market leader and it has that superlative iCloud environment to support it. The downside is that it expensive - fine if money isn't an issue, but for those of us in the real world....

Then there's the seven inch tablet war that will rage on in the background. We had the Kobo Vox last Christmas and that's a fine machine but lacking a camera for Skyping. Now we've got the Nexus, already creating a stir (most people ask if it's an iPad when they realise I'm not holding my usual Kindle). Coming up sometime in the autumn is the Nook - don't ask when or where but B&N reckon they've forged an alliance with a major UK retailer. The natural contender should have been Waterstones, but they've swung behind Amazon. It could be WH Smith who are currently one of the Kobo resellers and the one who was well and truly shafted earlier this year by Kobo, but I'm not convinced as they host their eBook site on Kobo. Finally we have the Fire coming up, and that is going to have a lot of promotion that will push the tablet concept across the board.

This is going to be a big year for the tablet industry, and a bad one for print. It may not look like it at the time; we need the tablet effect to percolate through, but in a year, maybe two we will look back and realise that the print world has changed into a decline. We will be reading books, magazines and newspapers routinely on our tablets - not exclusively by then but fast forward to, say, 2018 and it will be the norm and new print books will be relatively rare items.

Stand back and watch the fight unfold.

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Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Project: Evil – The Project Close Out Meeting part 1

‘So, what the hell’s a plus/delta meeting when it’s at home?’ asked O’Feld. Brian flicked through the PRINCE2 manual for assistance in answering the question.

‘It’s where we review the project and identify what went well – that is, what we would repeat on the next project – and what we would change next time around,’ he paraphrased. Brian was a little hesitant as he’d only found the last chapter in the manual because he’d ended up with a bit more reading time lately. He held the book up in his left hand while holding onto his cell bars with the other as he read the pertinent explanation out.

‘Well, I’d avoid being thrown into gaol next time,’ suggested Daw from his cell.

‘He’s just sore because we don’t need a HR manager inside,’ goaded O’Feld. ‘It’s not like he can run a recruitment campaign in here,’ he added.

‘Au contraire,’ replied Daw, ‘this is the perfect location for recruitment. It’s applying the various policies that are proving difficult. I can hardly fire someone for timekeeping when they’re in a cell, can I?’ he asked.

‘You can’t fire anyone, seeing as they removed all our side arms,’ pointed out O’Feld. ‘So, Brian, what is it you need from this meeting?’

‘Well, let’s start with what went well,’ he suggested, looking up and down the corridor as far as the cell bars would allow. He thought he saw tumbleweed at one point, so he decided to move the meeting on. ‘OK, let’s park that thought for now, what could we have done better?’ he asked, pushed back to the far wall by the pressure of sound that greeted his question. ‘OK, OK, I get you’re not altogether happy with the result, but without a rational evaluation of how we performed, we’re doomed to end up here again,’ he said, surprised that the noise had subsided.

‘We could have more warning klaxons,’ suggested one voice from down the corridor. Brian scraped a matrix on his cell wall to make notes on. Using a nail he’d removed from his chair he scratched that suggestion down.

‘Anything else?’ he asked public sector man. Froshdu coughed to get Brian’s notice.

‘How about more food?’ he asked. Brian thought that was a given, but he scratched it up anyway. Froshdu wasn’t finished. ‘I meant in here,’ he said. O’Feld jumped in.

‘Stop moaning, we all have to put up with being in gaol,’ he grumbled.

‘But at least you get conjugal rights,’ replied Froshdu.

‘Only because Mrs O’Feld is so useful as a mouse catcher,’ responded O’Feld defensively.

‘How about we don’t build in a self destruct function that can be triggered easily?’ asked one of the engineers. Brian hovered over the matrix to see if there was general support for the idea, but lowered his hand when it was clear nobody took it seriously.

‘Well, at least let’s get the colour schemes sorted from the start of the project in future,’ suggested another engineer. Brian found himself scratching that suggestion down immediately.

‘For God’s sake Brian,’ shouted O’Feld, ‘I’m sure this is all very correct, but couldn’t we carry it out once we get out of here?’ he asked. ‘I’d like to propose we start a new project right now, to escape from this hell hole,’ he vented. Brian bristled.

‘If that’s what you want, then fine, but I must warn you we’re likely to end up making the same mistakes all over again if we don’t carry out this activity,’ he warned. It sounded like improbable bullshit, but then again everything else in the PRINCE2 manual had as well. Daw interrupted.

‘So you’re saying that if we don’t analyse what we did on the last project, then our project to escape from gaol will most likely end up with us in gaol,’ he said, trying to follow the logic. ‘But if we don’t start the “get out of gaol” project then we end up staying in gaol anyway,’ he added. ‘Sounds like we need to start the project now.’

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The characters, companies and places referred to in Project: Evil are fictitious and any resemblance to people, companies, businesses or places is entirely coincidental.

If you know someone who has a warped sense of humour please pass them the link to my blog so that they can enjoy 'Project: Evil'.

I can be followed on Twitter too - @RayASullivan
or on Facebook - use raysullivan.novels@yahoo.com to find me

To find out more about my ancestors visit my sister’s website http://sullivanfamilyhistory.angelfire.com/

Visit my books on Amazon (for Kindle owners) and Smashwords (for access to all other formats and access to Apple iBooks, Barnes and Noble, Sony, WH Smith, Kobo and many other good ebookstores.

Digital Life Form is available on Amazon.com in paperback for $7.99 and Amazon.co.uk for £5.99

The Last Simple is available on Amazon.com in paperback for $5.99 and Amazon.co.uk for £4.99

The Journeymen is available for $8.99 or £6.99 in the UK

Skin is available for $9.99 or £6.99 in the UK

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Project: Evil – The Project Close Out Meeting part 2

‘OK, it’s your train set,’ huffed Brian, scratching a new matrix on the opposite wall, wondering how he was going to manage to bring the part completed project review matrix with him when they escaped. ‘Right, let’s start with project definition. What would success look like?’ he asked a meeting numbed to silence.

‘How about not being in gaol?’ suggested someone, eventually.

‘Great,’ said Brian, scratching it on the matrix. ‘So, ideas for escape?’ he added.

‘I prefer a tunnel,’ said one of the henchmen.

‘I’m frightened of enclosed spaces,’ complained a voice from down the corridor.

‘And I’m frightened of heights,’ suggested another voice.

‘How come that’s a problem?’ asked Brian, trying to keep up with the ideas.

‘We’re on the fourth floor,’ answered the voice. Brian had to concede there were issues.

‘OK, we probably need to set up a working group to determine an escape strategy. What about resources?’ Again there was silence before a lone voice advised that, hello, they were in gaol. Brian flicked through the manual for guidance. ‘Right, for starters, we’ve all got skills we can add to the project.’

‘Like what?’ asked O’Feld. Daw was on this.

‘Thieves, liars, killers, thugs,’ he suggested. Brian started to get excited as he scratched the list into the wall.

‘So we’ve got the makings of a Governance Team,’ he reported. ‘Any other skills?’

‘We’ve got Froshdu,’ suggested the Facilities Lead. ‘He could probably eat us out of here.’ That sounded feasible. Brian realised he’d jumped the gun in listing the resources, so he back-tracked a few pages.

‘What about finance? There’s no point starting a project we can’t afford,’ he said.

‘We usually do,’ observed O’Feld, trying to catch the Finance Lead’s eye through the bars of their respective cells. ‘How much do we have?’ he shouted across the corridor. The Finance Lead shrugged his orange jumpsuit off and pulled his underpants out, rummaging inside for a few seconds before pulling out a handful of cigarettes.

‘About thirty snouts and a packet of aspirin, all negotiable currency inside these places,’ he announced with some pride: he’d arranged this collection personally.

‘What about the thirty five thousand pounds we smuggled in?’ asked O’Feld.

‘That’s what I used to get the snouts. I traded the dynamite we found stuck in the folds of Froshdu’s body for the drugs,’ he crowed. Froshdu howled as he remembered the snack he’d been saving being taken from him. O’Feld seemed satisfied, but Brian was a little unsure.

‘I get the drugs thing – it’s suitably despicable for O’Feld Megalomaniac Industries – but cigarettes? That’s a little edgy even for us, isn’t it?’

‘Put it on the risk register as a moral hazard,’ suggested Daw, throwing a spare nail across to Brian as his own was wearing down. Brian looked around his cell for a spare wall to start the risk register on.

‘OK, so we’ve got funding, we’re going to form an escape strategy working group, governance is sorted and we now have a risk register,’ he said, realising that already the project was exceeding most public sector efforts in terms of compliance. ‘I think we’ve made a good start here,’ he said, pulling a loose brick out of his cell wall, revealing a bright, sunny day outside the prison. O’Feld looked at the gap where the brick had been and then at Brian as he sat down on his cot.

‘What the hell are you doing, Brian?’ he asked. Brian put the nail down carefully before answering; it amazed him that this organisation had managed to build an empire with such little formal understanding of project administration.

‘I’m writing up the minutes,’ he said, adding, ‘I’ll pop the brick round later once I’ve finished writing the first draft.’ Then he looked at the hole in the wall before continuing, ‘I’d like the loose bricks in my wall fixing if we’re going to stay here for a while,’ he said, scratching away at the minutes. ‘I’ll put it down as an action for the Facilities Lead,’ he said.

Inside Brian was excited: he was leading another project, and this one looked like it could run for years. He popped his head to his bars. ‘Unless anyone has something for AOB, can I suggest we reconvene next Friday?’ he asked, to general agreement.

The End

If you know someone who has a warped sense of humour please pass them the link to my blog so that they can enjoy 'Project: Evil'.

I can be followed on Twitter too - @RayASullivan
or on Facebook - use raysullivan.novels@yahoo.com to find me

To find out more about my ancestors visit my sister’s website http://sullivanfamilyhistory.angelfire.com/

For quick access to the various Kindle, Kobo, WH Smith and Smashword links please use the table below to view my books.

To View My books In....

Tuesday, 24 July 2012

Project: Evil – The Mindless Bloody Finale Meeting part 4

‘Crocodiles have escaped,’ he pointed out, ‘they got fed up waiting for Bund to outwit them so they’ve decided to eat their keepers and pop over. They shouldn’t be too long,’ he lisped.

‘Of course they’ll be long, they haven’t got any legs,’ replied Brian, exasperated at having to think of every single thing.

‘Which means they’ll be really easy to capture and kill,’ suggested Bund, peeking into the armoury. ‘Say, how come you haven’t got any weapons?’ he asked, surprised. He was used to facing ridiculous levels of opposition; facing an unarmed mass of henchmen was something he really wasn’t prepared for.

‘Of course we’ve weapons,’ stormed O’Feld, pulling the armoury door open to reveal shelf after shelf of empty racking. ‘Bloody Pikeys, is there nothing they won’t steal?’ he asked. ‘Right, Bund, it’s the laser beam for you,’ he said, nodding at Lurch to grab Bund and drag him away to the Secret Agent Interrogation Suite – Lurch had wanted to call it a cell, but agreed to disagree with Brian after the project manager had brought on board a team of style consultants as per PRINCE2 standard methodology. ‘Are you coming, Brian?’ he asked. Brian tried to think of legitimate reasons for staying where he was, knowing he was unlikely to succeed.

‘I thought I ought to coordinate the project, you know, floor walk it. There may be a need to set off some set-piece explosions that should destroy the power feeds to the launch sequence but will just make the computer pseudo-random light sequence falter,’ he suggested, wondering what the big deal was with making computers flash complicated and meaningless sequences of lights that absolutely nobody could possibly monitor in any meaningful way. It had occurred to him that if the sequences were truly useful, then a computer would be the ideal device to monitor them.

‘Explosions are for later,’ shouted O’Feld, adding, ‘probably after the total annihilation of the facility but before the launch,’ he said, supervising Lurch dragging the octogenarian to the suite.

‘OK,’ said Brian a little nervously, ‘but I think I’ll unplug the kettle first,’ he suggested, guessing that the kebab stall rotisserie motor will have been eaten by Froshdu by now..

When O’Feld reached the Interrogation Suite he found the sound deadening material was really worth the investment – he’d had argued that it was good for morale to hear someone being tortured but Brian had dug his heels in. Surprisingly, O’Feld let him remove them again before the concrete had set.

‘This is fantastic,’ said O’Feld, beaming. ‘That klaxon was really getting on my tits,’ he added, flicking the laser beam on/off switch rapidly, watching the thin white light burst on and off in reply. Bund stood polishing his spectacles with his shirt tail carefully before pressing the sticking plaster holding the left arm on back into position as he offered them back up to his face.

‘So, Mr O’Feld,’ he said, trying to remember the stock line, ‘do you expect me to talk?’ he asked, tipping his head for the standard megalomaniac reply, straight from the handbook. O’Feld looked at Brian, who’d just walked in as Bund had asked the question.

‘Well Brian? Do we?’ he asked. Brian swallowed hard as he knew the likelihood of the laser cutting a toenail was remote; a whole person was unthinkable. Once O’Feld realised he’d been duped on the laser procurement, which had been intended for an eye clinic, Brian expected to be cut in half by more traditional methods. To try and stall he pulled out the project plan and spread it out in front of them all.

‘Well it’s not on the critical path,’ he said, cursing himself for not including it, then consulting another document before adding, ‘and I don’t think it’s on the risk register if he doesn’t,’ he answered. O’Feld seemed relieved.

‘Thank f*ck for that, cut the shit in half,’ he said. Brian felt a wave of relief wash over him. If Bund couldn’t provide any faeces to order, Brian certainly could. He was sure the laser should be able to manage a turd at least.

‘Don’t look at me,’ said Bund, ‘I missed my Complan this morning, even if I could manage a shit, it’d be as hard as rock.’ Brian started to think up a diversion so that he could substitute one of his own dumps when the Facilities lead walked into the Interrogation Suite.

‘Great news, boss,’ he announced.

‘You’ve stopped the self destruction sequence?’ asked O’Feld. The Head of Facilities stopped in his tracks.

‘Wouldn’t that be the head of Security’s job?’ he asked. O’Feld looked at Daw, who shook his head.

‘No, for two reasons. First, the self destruct equipment is part of the fabric of Mission Control; that’s a Facilities’ responsibility. Second, you had the Head of Security shot months ago,’ he said, consulting his personnel roster. The Head of Facilities looked desperately towards Brian.

‘It’s not mine officially until project handover,’ he said. Brian had to concede a point there, but he had one way out of the situation.

‘Strictly that’s true, but as we’re now using the Facility in a live environment, it’s not a project anymore. We should have a close-out meeting, but we can do that after we’re vapourised,’ he suggested. O’Feld was looking a little irritated with the bickering.

‘Never mind all of that. What’s your news?’ he shouted at the Head of Facilities.

‘Bus stop is completed, a day ahead of schedule. Didn’t even need a project manager,’ he sneered. Brian felt he needed to defend his position.

‘So when’s the first bus due?’ he asked, knowing that the Head of Facilities wouldn’t have thought it through that deeply, expecting a barrage of bluster and bullshit; or “management speak” as it was known. He was surprised, though.

‘There’s a bus waiting, engine ticking over, just waiting for the driver to finish his break. He should be back in half an hour,’ he said. O’Feld looked at his watch as a calm voice broke over the tannoy.

‘Oh, there you are. Eight minutes to self destruct. To be honest, I’ve lost the plot on the launch sequence,’ she said.

‘Eight minutes!’ exclaimed O’Feld, looking at the Head of Facilities. Does the driver know how long he’s got if he stays in the canteen. The Head of Facilities didn’t even check his notebook for this one.

‘He certainly does, but he’s a union man. He’s entitled to half an hour break, he says, and he’s going to take it.’

‘This is total bullshit,’ said O’Feld, looking at Daw.

‘Actually, it’s European law,’ he said, not sure if he was clarifying or agreeing with O’Feld, deciding he was doing both.

‘Why don’t we catch the bus?’ asked Brian, withering under the glare from O’Feld.

‘I don’t run away while my facility self destructs,’ he sneered. Daw looked at his watch.

‘Actually, you usually do. True, you usually leave it way too late but you do leave, muttering something about a sequel,’ he said, adding, ‘I’m in, if anyone knows how to drive one of these buses.’

‘I think I know,’ volunteered Brian, hoping it was a London bound bus – he’d witnessed one of them being driven recently. If it was Margate bound he could have a problem. O’Feld looked like he was about to resist when the calm voice floated over the tannoy.

‘Oh f*ck, f*ck, less than seven minutes to go until self destruct and I haven’t done all the things I wanted to do. I could have been a sat nav voice, or a railway announcer. Life is so cruel,’ she said, panic clearly surfacing. That was it for O’Feld.

‘Let’s get the f*ck out of here before she hits the bottle and gets all maudlin,’ he said, adding, ‘and where the f*ck is Bund?’ Everyone looked around suddenly, but the old git had disappeared while they’d been bickering over the bus.

‘Probably running around the monorail or high-jacking a golf buggy,’ suggested Brian, throwing his project plan away. He’d not anticipated Bund escaping while there was still seven minutes left.

The group made their way to the bus-stop, halted early by the Head of Facilities to admire his handiwork.

‘That’s quality chromium plated steel,’ he gloated, adding ‘and top quality Perspex for the cover.’

‘And that’s the driver,’ interjected Brian, relieved as the destination sign didn’t mention London.

They bundled onto the double-decker, with Daw heading straight for the rear seat, followed by O’Feld. O’Feld pulled out a packet of cigarettes, but was chastised by the driver, who had clearly watched their every move as they boarded.

‘You can’t smoke downstairs,’ he remonstrated. O’Feld huffed and started to make his way to the spiral staircase leading up to the upper deck. As he made his way down the length of the bus, Froshdu waddled up, lumbering onto the step breathlessly. He looked longingly at the occupied bench seat at the rear of the bus and his face dropped when Daw pushed his satchel onto the space between himself and the window.

‘Is there anything to eat?’ he asked as he brushed past the driver, distorting the side panels as he waddled. While O’Feld attempted to squeeze past Froshdu and Brian, who was sat halfway down the bus nearest the window, the bus driver raised his cap, pulling up his fake collar and revealing his wrinkled neck. Brian started to stand to alert the management team but was jammed against the bus sidewall by the scientist he’d helped to torture, then recruit. Just as he was about to shout a warning, bars slid up the sides of the windows and the front of the bus, separating Bund from O’Feld and his team. O’Feld huffed in annoyance and started to climb the spiral stairs as Bund pulled away from the facility.

‘I wouldn’t sit upstairs,’ suggested Brian, remembering his last bus trip with Bund at the wheel.

If you know someone who has a warped sense of humour please pass them the link to my blog so that they can enjoy 'Project: Evil'.

I can be followed on Twitter too - @RayASullivan
or on Facebook - use raysullivan.novels@yahoo.com to find me

To find out more about my ancestors visit my sister’s website http://sullivanfamilyhistory.angelfire.com/

For quick access to the various Kindle, Kobo, WH Smith and Smashword links please use the table below to view my books.

To View My books In....

Monday, 23 July 2012

Project: Evil – The Mindless Bloody Finale Meeting part 3

‘Why are we starting the self destruct sequence?’ Brian asked. The project plan was really up the creek now.

‘Self destruction sequence commenced due to kebab stand being sold out,’ stated the calm voice. Public sector man beamed.

‘Not many alarm specialists would have considered that eventuality,’ he crowed.

‘Bloody Froshdu,’ grumbled O’Feld, mild irritation showing on his face.

‘But we’re destroying the facility thirteen minutes before we launch,’ Brian shouted, frustration welling up in him. He saw the looks on O’Feld’s and Daw’s faces. Daw took him to one side, holding his application form in his hand.

‘According to this,’ he said, pointing at the bullshit sentence Brian had concocted months earlier while smashed out of his tree, ‘you are calm under pressure. That’s why we employed you; every other project manager we’ve used previously has flipped just before the project melted down, usually before the meaningless destruction of the secret lair. You promised a calm destruction of the planet, we don’t need you to lose your cool now,’ he said. ‘Anyway, you’ve got more pressing issues to resolve,’ he said. Brian looked back at O’Feld and Bund, who were exchanging anecdotes on previous projects Bund had thwarted.

‘Like what?’ he asked, aware that he hadn’t initiated the pointlessly meaningless frenzy stage of the project where everyone was supposed to run around the artificial ramparts in shit coloured pyjamas in a random fashion carrying rifles and falling over stupidly low barriers. By his reckoning, they should have started that phase minutes earlier.

‘Like that,’ answered Daw, pointing at the superfluous fourth stage of the rocket. Brian saw immediately what the problem was. To be fair, anyone seeing a hole big enough for an unneeded stainless steel table cut out of the side of the rocket would realise what the problem was.

‘Who did this?’ he asked.

‘Pikeys, apparently,’ answered Daw, looking at his watch. ‘Seems they snuck in during the night.’ Brian’s head spun; if O’Feld hadn’t made him turn the electro magnet off then they wouldn’t have got it out of the compound. He mentioned this to Daw. ‘They took the electro magnet the night before, apparently,’ he said. ‘Look, you’ve only got twenty-eight minutes to get it repaired,’ he added.

‘Twenty-seven minutes, actually,’ contradicted the calm voice, adding, ‘and please note total destruction will take place in fourteen minutes.

‘I can help,’ said Bill Watkins, scrubbing his oversized glasses on his comic tie showing the NoDangerStyle UK logo.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ asked Daw.

‘He’s overseeing the fitting of the glassless windows in the mission control,’ explained Brian. ‘So, how can you help?’ he asked Bill.

‘We could fit a new window in that gap,’ he offered. Brian looked up at the gap, then back down at Bill.

‘Can you do it in the next twenty-seven minutes?’ he asked.

‘Twenty-six,’ corrected the calm voice. Bill sucked air in through his teeth, creating a whistling sound.

‘I’m not sure I can manage that,’ he said, popping his glasses back in front of his eyes, at least approximately. Brian had to think fast; Watkins was used to working under pressure: that was the way to deal with these sales tossers, he decided. He pulled out his mobile phone and pretended to dial.

‘OK, let’s see what your competitors can offer,’ he said, piling the pressure on. Bill lay his hand on the phone.

‘You can’t do that,’ Bill said.

‘You think not?’ asked Brian, feeling he’d got the edge on the negotiation.

‘You’re two hundred miles from a cell phone mast, of course you can’t,’ said Bill, adding, ‘and if you’ve managed to keep that charged over here I’d be amazed.’ Daw nodded agreement. Bill continued, ‘OK Brian, you drive a hard bargain, but I can only manage single glazed,’ he offered. Brian shook Bill’s hand vigorously.

‘Great, you’ve got twenty-six minutes,’ he said, letting the hand go.

‘Twenty-five minutes,’ said the calm voice, before adding, ‘and twelve-ish to total destruction.’ O’Feld stormed over to Brian.

‘It looks like you’ve screwed up the whole project plan, Brian,’ he accused, unfairly in Brian’s opinion.

‘How so?’ he asked, scanning the project documentation, noting that the launch date and time could be made to occur pretty much anytime with judicious folding of the project plan. He also noted that such folding was likely to produce a tricorn hat he could wear for the launch, but felt that such an action was likely to be deemed inappropriate.

‘Well, you never told me the plan could fail, for one,’ said O’Feld prodding Brian in the chest with his finger, which was a relief as usually he used a bayonet. Brian wasn’t standing for all of this.

‘Of course I told you it could happen, it’s entry three hundred and forty three on the risk register, above having to abort the launch because the Finance lead has washed his underwear in biological detergent, removing the accounts backup file; and below Daw finding a sense of humour,’ he said, flicking through the register to find the specific entry that O’Feld had signed off on. O’Feld ripped the document out of Brian’s hand and riffled through the hundreds of pages.

‘Did you expect me to read all of this?’ he asked.

‘Of course not,’ replied Brian, ‘this is a PRINCE2 run project. Assumption number two is that nobody reads the project documentation.

‘What’s assumption number one?’ asked Daw.

‘There’s never more than two assumptions in any project plan,’ explained Brian carefully. Daw wasn’t getting it.

‘Yes, but what is the first assumption?’ he asked again. Brian looked at his watch as the calm voice stated ‘Twenty-four minutes to launch, but bloody Armageddon first in eleven minutes,’ she said, adding, ‘please have passports ready for inspection.’ Brian looked back at O’Feld.

‘The first assumption is that nobody makes more than two assumptions, which only leaves one assumption left,’ he explained.

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Daw, ‘and I’ve been involved in dozens of PRINCE2 projects in my time. Where are these rules about the assumptions written?’ he asked, curious.

‘In the documentation,’ said Brian. ‘God, doesn’t anybody read it? Look, I’ve got a project to lead, we’re running behind on some activities so I need some of the guys to multi-task,’ he said, picking up a megaphone. ‘Attention all henchmen, it’s time to take your defensive positions, but it would be really helpful if some of you could just fall off the platforms spontaneously as you go. Also, could the team responsible for running on top of the crocodiles stand-by please?’ Lurch tapped Brian on the shoulder.

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