You Make Your Own Fun In The Office
- For most of the last two days a phone has gone off at irregular intervals playing 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas'. I asked why. Apparently it's the emergency phone. I am never asking anything ever again.
- They made me clear out the answerphone. Amongst the people calling on mobiles from the M6 with their screeching spawn in the car, the Scousers with accents so thick that even I (a half Scouser) couldn't understand them and those who didn't quite understand the concept of the answerphone (leave a message, if I want to hear someone breathing I am sit in a room on my own), amongst all this, all this chaos, all this incomprehensible static was one thing which cheered me. Some fool had accidentally rung and left a huge message, a recording of their night out. I had to give up after 10 minutes as it transpired I was not going to hear a crime take place and be able to get lots of debt relieving (oh god a new computer and a trip to Greece to pay for) reward. But I still loved what was, pretty much, the first line.
I fucking hate living next door to a policeman, you can't do anything fun.
- And who the hell keeps stealing the canteen's only copy of the Gruaniad? Why must I live in a world were the occasional ray of light offered by the Times is dwarfed by the enormity of having to suffer, shudder, the tabloids?
To whom it may concern, that new computer and Athens had better be worth this pain.