A poet who's spent his entire life trying to get a publishing deal is feeling extremely depressed. He's been turned-down by every publishing company he's ever contacted. No one seems to recognize his unique genius.

So, he decides to top himself, and comes up with an ingenious plan to get back at all the publishing companies who've rejected him all of his life.

He books time at a recording studio, and instructs the sound engineer to record everything he says, and every sound he hears, and then copy it all onto 500 CDs, and send one to every publishing company executive on the list that he hands the engineer.

The guy walks into the vocal booth; the red light is on, and he begins...."This is a message for all you sycophantic, talent-less, stupid company arse -holes who've ignored me for all these years. I've dedicated my life to writing and performing beautiful, emotive, soul-touching poetry, and all you bastards do is discard my efforts, and sign these horrible, no-talent, ridiculous, stupid rhymesters and down right crap versifiers.

Well, you bunch of feckin' morons; you dumb bimbos, I've taken all I can of your puerile, shallow industry, and it's YOU who've driven me to this!
Goodbye you murderers of art!"

With that, he places a gun to his head and blows his brains out.

The sound engineer looks up from the console, hits the talk-back button, and says, "Okay. That's fine. I've got a good level. Let's go for a take."