"I'd rather grow hair on the soles of my feet!" But then this maniac actually sends his "great" surfing photos to the editorial team. 10 of them every day. Peter jibing (out of focus), Peter flying AI-generated ten metres above Philip Köster, Peter at high speed (approx. 1 kilometre away and out of focus) etc. etc. "Thank you," they write back, "we already have 2,754 similar photos, with yours there are now 12,836. Don't call us, we'll call you."
He then terrorised the editorial team with 20 calls per hour, under a false name, from different lines. Result: The girls at reception put the phone in the fridge. "If something sensational comes along, they have to take it. A loop without foot straps or a speed record for surfing backwards!" - "Sure."
The next day, a new attack: he sets up a protest camp in the car park of the editorial office. "I want a cover!" is written on huge cardboard signs, and "I'll stay until the boss does a cover with me," he shouts through the megaphone. Too bad for him, he's camping in Munich, the boss is in Hamburg. After three weeks, the police clear the camp and Peter shouts as he is taken away: "I'll take out as many subscriptions as I can until I'm the absolute majority of readers, then you'll have to do it!"
Back from prison, he hisses through his mobile phone: "You know what, I'll do it like I did with 'Kir Royal', I'll send the boss an envelope with 'money' every week. At first he'll send it back, but there's more in it every time. And at some point he'll fall over and take it. Then it's mine! Then I'll get my cover!" However, his overdraft facility says no to large sums of money, and so the first consignment of €25.80 is returned with 'Unknown moved'.
Good old blackmail then. Either I get my cover now, or I go to the surf festival and turn it into a photo bomb festival. I'll fuck up every picture, at parties, with the pros, on land, on the water, whatever, in a Bavarian dirndl with pigtails and a David Hasselhoff mask," he wrote to surf. "Brilliant!" said the boss, "We'll make a great two-line note in the mailbox." - "No cover?" - "Cover? Nope, you'd have to do something crazy for that."