The pedantic studio chief
quibbled over pantones
as the huddled rolling eyes
plotted lunchtime escapes.
VeloPark laps were counted
a ride to Brighton reviewed
internal phones pranked
and fits of laughter filmed.
Two rounds of Dead Pony
saw out another long week
curtains falling by the day
revealing all its strange mess.
Years later they’d meet
talking fondly of this time
often stressed and angered
but wiser from it all.