‘Absolutely,’ said Lindsay, in her gentle, measured Scottish brogue. ‘Actually, Max, Trevor made a very good point in our strategy meeting earlier today. Do you mind if I paraphrase, Trevor?’
‘Paraphrase away.’
‘Well, Trevor’s point was this. And it actually takes the form of a question. Well, three questions, in fact. We’re heading into a major global recession, Max. So let me ask you something: will you be replacing your car this year?’
‘I doubt it. I’m barely using it at the moment, actually.’
‘Fair enough. And are you planning to take your family abroad this summer, Max?’
‘Well, the rest of my family sort of … don’t live with me any more. I expect they’ll be taking their own holiday.’
‘Point taken. But would you be taking them abroad, if they still lived with you?’
‘No, I doubt it.’
‘Exactly. So in the light of the current economic problems, you’re not going to be replacing your car, and you’re not going to be taking a foreign holiday this year. Tell me this, though, Max.’ She leaned forward, as if to deliver the killer blow. ‘
I had to admit that I had no plans to cut down on cleaning my teeth. In this way, I proved her point triumphantly.
‘Exactly!’ she said. ‘People will always clean their teeth and will always need toothbrushes. That’s the beauty of the humble toothbrush. It’s a recession-proof product.’
‘But,’ said Trevor, holding up his forefinger, ‘as I said before, this does
‘Very competitive,’ Lindsay agreed.
‘Intensely competitive. Full of some extremely big players. You’ve got Oral-B, you’ve got Colgate, you’ve got GlaxoSmithKline.’
‘Names to reckon with,’ said Lindsay.
‘Gigantic names,’ said Trevor. ‘These are the Goliaths of the toothbrush business.’
‘Good image, Trevor.’
‘It’s Alan’s, actually.’
‘Who’s Alan?’ I asked.
‘Alan Guest,’ Trevor explained, ‘is the founder, owner and managing director of Guest Toothbrushes. The whole thing is his baby. He used to work for one of the majors but after a while he decided, “Enough’s enough. There has to be an alternative.” He didn’t want anything more to do with the giants, or their business models. He wanted to be David.’
‘David who?’ asked Lindsay.
‘David the little guy who had the fight with Goliath,’ Trevor explained, slightly irritated by the interruption. ‘I don’t know his second name. History doesn’t record his second name.’
‘Ah. Now I get you.’
‘Alan realized,’ Trevor continued, ‘that he couldn’t take on the majors on their own turf. It wasn’t a level playing field. So he decided to move the goalposts instead. He had a vision, and he saw the future. Like Lazarus on the road to Damascus.’
‘He rose from the dead,’ said Lindsay.
‘What?’
‘Lazarus rose from the dead. It was someone else on the road to Damascus. Lazarus never went to Damascus, as far as I know.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Well, he might have done – who knows? Maybe he popped into Damascus now and again. Probably had relatives there, or something.’
‘No, I mean are you sure it wasn’t Lazarus who had the vision?’
‘Ninety per cent sure. Maybe ninety-five.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter. Like I said, Alan saw what the majors were doing wrong. He saw where the future lies: green toothbrushes.’
‘Green?’ I said, puzzled.
‘I don’t mean the colour. We’re talking about the environment, Max. We’re talking about sustainable energy, renewable sources. Let me ask you – where do you think most toothbrushes are made?’
‘China?’
‘Correct. And what are they made of?’
‘Plastic?’
‘Right again. And what are the bristles made of?’
I could never answer questions like this. ‘I don’t know … Something synthetic?’
‘Exactly. Nylon, to be precise. Now what does that sound like to you? To me, it sounds like a recipe for
