One product brief, eight voices. The product is a plain blue ballpoint pen, 19p, the kind you have stolen from a bank.
Forty-one hours of nothing. That is what we ask of the barrel before it may hold ink. Each Biro Nº 7 is drawn from a single polymer, translucent as a held breath, so that you may watch your own thoughts leaving you. It is not for everyone. Nothing that costs nineteen pence ever is.
We're on a mission to reimagine friction between ideas and surfaces. Pen is a zero-config, offline-first capture device with no subscription, a 3 km range and sub-millisecond latency. Trusted by everyone who has ever needed to sign for a parcel. Backed by a small steel ball.
LADIES & GENTLEMEN! Be no longer the SLAVE of the INKWELL! Dr. Pettifer's PATENT ROLLING STYLUS writes UPSIDE-DOWN, in a GALE, and upon the BACK of a HORSE! Cures all BLOTS. Testified to by a CLERGYMAN. Beware of IMITATIONS, of which there are several BILLION.
Here, in the shallow drawer of a kitchen in Stockport, we find one of the most successful species on Earth. It has no predators. It reproduces by being lent. And yet, as winter closes in, this one has begun to fail, giving out only faint grooves on the back of an envelope. It will be shaken, once, and it will be licked. It will not be thrown away. Nobody knows why.
Under Section 14 of the Writing Instruments (Miscellaneous Provisions) Order, this pen remains the property of the branch. Members of the public are reminded that a chain has been fitted for your convenience. Removal of the chain, or of the pen, or of the desk to which the chain is attached, may constitute an offence.
Has THIS ever happened to you? You've got a thought, but you've got no way of putting it down! Well, say goodbye to remembering things, because now there's PEN. But wait. Click it. Click it again. It's still only nineteen pence! Order in the next ten minutes and we'll send you another, which you will also lose.
I have been in the bottom of your bag since 2019. I can see a Polo mint and a receipt for a sandwich. I know that you need me. You have looked for me twice this week, and each time you used a different pen. I am not angry. I would simply like to feel some paper.
Borrowed once. Never returned. Still writing.