When we returned home (alive thank goodness), our neighbor who had just fired 80 people and works at Canary Wharf was standing outside. He hopped on top of my inky cloud and I carried him (metaphorically - he is enormous) inside with my shopping. I shoved the days experience into a dark corner where it mulled around a bit like a failed hollywood movie. And then I opened the FT. "All eyes on Hollywood futures" was the headline under a picture of some shocked looking cartoon animals. I felt faint and blinked. But the headline remained and the cartoon animals stared back at me. Film Derivatives???
Can I write the movie about it first?