An original musical podcast celebrating AI, software engineering and the magnificent art of organisational self-sabotage. Featuring award-unwinning songs, executive optimism, strategic pivots, return-to-office mandates and enough corporate jargon to justify a steering committee.

So true you won't believe it's fiction. So ridiculous you won't believe it's reality.

Experience the overnight success days in the making.

The rumours are plentiful. The coffee is insufficient. Leadership has prepared a song about the journey ahead.

Settle in, dear listener, and listen closely. Some announcements say rather more than they intend to.

Tonight: a dreamer finally gets his twenty-five minutes, and seven executives say yes to his idea. All seven of them. Enthusiastically. Unanimously.

To the same idea? Come now, dear listener. You know better than that.

The advert goes out. A thousand hopefuls answer. And somewhere far away, at exactly the wrong hour of the night, a tired engineer stops scrolling.

How many interviews does it take to find a miracle? More than you think. Fewer than they planned.

Our hero arrives with a new shirt and his optimism fully buttoned. He is told everything here is flexible, and everything here is easy.

Both of these statements are true. And yet, neither of them is.

And then the vision itself is unveiled to the assembled company, and it is stirring, and it is bold. And to exactly one person in that room, it is strangely, terribly familiar.

Tonight, one clear vision enters a team meeting. What leaves the meeting is harder to count.

And listen for the voice you barely hear, the quiet one in the corner, agreeing with everyone. The most dangerous person in any meeting is the one taking no notes.

By the end, a conclusion will be reached that nobody proposed and everybody supports.

Also tonight: our hero discovers that every company keeps two handbooks. Yours does too.

Tonight: a diagnosis is made from a distance, a phone call is placed about 'culture', and an announcement follows with all concerns warmly acknowledged and gently converted.

How much damage can one man do on mute? Attend, and be counted.

Leadership responds the only way leadership knows how: decisively, generously, and from one floor too far away.

Help is coming, dear listener. Senior help. Experienced help. Help with a diagram. Nobody asked for it.

Tonight: success is measured, then the measurement is worshipped, then the worship is optimised. Twice. In opposite directions.

Eleven tokens, dear listener. Remember the eleven tokens.

Tonight the kingdom discovers what happens to responsibility in a fully automated organisation. It doesn't disappear. It moves.

Listen for where it lands.

Then: three doors. Build. Borrow. Buy. An evaluation, conducted with completely open minds.

Officially. Officially.

Tonight: evidence argues with authority and learns its place, five long-locked levers move all at once, and a team discovers what 'transition' means when it happens to you.

Everyone handles the ending the way they handled the beginning. Almost everyone.

Then the applause cools into arithmetic: a pay freeze for the many, bonuses for the few, and a bright new promise that everyone, now, is a developer.

When the lights go down, two quieter reckonings remain. One, across a desk, about what 'family' was always going to cost. And one at a midnight kitchen table, where a very tired engineer opens a chat window to write the angriest resignation of his life. What happens next is between him and the machine.

The tools are everywhere now. In the mail, in the meetings, and somewhere altogether closer than that. Tonight the kingdom unveils its boldest idea yet about what to build when building costs nothing.

The kingdom has never produced more. Of what, nobody asks.

Which is, of course, precisely the problem.

Tonight: an announcement at nine a.m. sharp, two men who each believed it would be them, and a title that comes with rather more paperwork than titles used to. Some gifts arrive pre-addressed.

One last all-hands. One last journey. A company that can now produce anything, faster than anyone can ask whether it should.

And one final question, which I leave with you, since you have sat so patiently through all seventeen moons: if everyone stops thinking... who will be left to judge what is worth doing?