As a hotshot go-getter in the British equivalent of Madison Avenue, Richard E. Grant is having a problem coming up with an original campaign for a pimple cream and the pressure is on from the client and his boss (wonderfully droll Richard Wilson).
As dutiful wives do, Rachel Ward tries to assure him that something in his genius will come forward, but he’s floundering.
When a small boil breaks out on his own neck, Grant realizes the stress has become too much and it’s time to quit the business. It’s too late. The boil begins to grow – and starts to talk, giving form to all that’s vile and venal in his nature.
The picture would be genuinely hilarious were the subject matter not so overworked.