Monday, August 01, 2005

French Disko 

Tomorrow I’m going to take a shovel into the office and hide behind a door until Mike walks through, when I’m going to whack him over the head with it.
I’ve been trying to coax information out of him regarding his training for the half marathon that he’s tricked me into running in September. He’s giving nothing away. I said I ran ten miles on Sunday and he said “What do you want? A medal?”

I’d call his bluff but the evidence indicates otherwise: the fat man’s getting thinner. Whatever he’s up to he looks well on it, and whatever it is, it’s getting on my tits.
Speaking of which, I took Lisa’s advice and rubbed Utterly Butterly into my protruding parts but all I got was a pack of dogs chasing me across Lytham Green and thirty pence off a loaf of Hovis.

This morning Mike placed a doughnut on a sheet of A4 and put both on my desk. A deliberate act of provocation. I drew a circle around the donut and labelled it “Will power”.

Meanwhile Stella, my eighties style yuppie witch of a team leader, has put a notice on her door saying “Never before has the concept of teamwork been more important to the functioning of successful organisations.” She has to communicate this way because nobody can hear a word she says since she filled her office with wind chimes. They help to centre her chakra.

Sometime this afternoon I overheard Tabs shouting “Clubbing? No, I don’t go clubbing any more,” above the manic tinkling. Terry has yet to come back to work following their French trip.
“Terry doesn’t dance,” she continued. There was no trace of bitterness in her tone. “He just stands at the bar drinking, so what’s the point?” Maybe a hint of resignation. Sunstroke, apparently.

Later on, Neil my former team leader wandered into the office. He was wearing a cycling helmet, lycra shorts and a sweaty t-shirt which read “The team that cycles together stays together.”
He waved a spare helmet at me and said “Do you ride tandem?”

Stella came along, looked at the sheet of paper on my desk and asked “What’s will power?” Before I could answer she said that even if she did win £77 million on the lottery, she’d still come into work. “What about you, Tim?”

Neil stood in the doorway, shaking his helmet in my direction.
I stared at Mike and then at the doughnut. I’m doing long term damage to my knees because of that overweight obnoxious idiot. I ache all over. “It’s like this,” I said. “You’ve either got it, or you haven’t.”

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