This is the age of the slogan, the soundbite, the snappy phrase in place of considered argument. Thought is dying; reason’s gone critical. In bookshops and magazine racks we’re told only what we want to hear: we’re told it in neat, bullet-pointed affirmations of our own worth.

No more. This is the fightback. The resuscitation. This is the slogan as explainer of the world. One a day for a year. Three hundred and sixty five phrases, soundbites and bullet points with which to make sense of the way things are now and point to how things could be tomorrow. Read them and weep.


Monday

39. Clothes maketh the man

Once every six months you should turn up to work in an impeccable suit: razor-sharp creases, pressed shirt, silk tie, gleaming cufflinks, shoes you could see up a skirt with. Make sure you’re seen. Make sure your clothes are noticed, commented upon, conjectured about. Keep the bastards on their toes. Keep them thinking you’re dressing for a reason, like you’re getting up and getting dressed for a reason, like you’re actually making the effort to impress for a reason. Make them think there is a reason and they’ll believe there is a reason.
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