Well, it would appear that the British Spring has arrived. No more ice and snow.
Until next week that is, but obviously there are only a few actions you must follow when the sun comes out.
If you’re female you must dust off the most revealing and uninspiring wardrobe collection, find the most intrusive of these garments and parade around town in them.
You think you look like Kate Moss or Cheryl Cole. We think you look like a deformed pastry product or Miss Piggy.
But that’s ok, its your choice.
Men, yes I haven’t forgotten you. You must wear the same clothes as you normally would, maybe change the jeans for the 3/4 length combats and add a nice shirt or t-shirt. Hang on, no this is nice weather so change the t-shirt for a really old, beer stained England Football shirt or if you fancy wearing a proper shirt, don’t do it up. Hang loose.
Oh, and a must for the older gent, remember to leave your socks on with those sandals. Looking good.
There you go England, you are ready for the sunny weather. Don’t worry about sun cream or anything, just keep drinking the chilled beer, does the same job.
One word of caution though, for the mums-to-be out there. You MUST make sure that when out and about cover up none of your bump. Yeah, that’s right, wear your mini skirt and boob tube, but just let your belly hang out for all to see. We all love the sight of new life being harvested before the wonders of childbirth. There are those that may be offended by the sight of your stretch marks and they may wish you a hideously, painful labour, but they are in the minority. Maybe.
I think that’s everybody covered. Nope, I forgot the old dears among you; just keep your coats on loves. Never had sun during the war did you? Bless.
And I’ll finish with a tip for the larger man; wear light coloured or well ventilated tops. Nothing is more unsightly than sweat patches. Same goes for your trousers too.
I hope you enjoy these pleasant days before England changes its mind and decides to let the snow run the show once more.
I have a confession. (I seem to be writing that a lot recently)
I have a new guilty pleasure which I am going to share with you.
Every day, and I mean every day, at 5.15pm I watch BBC1.
No, that’s not it.
I thoroughly enjoy the programme that is scheduled by the BBC, so much so that I congregate in the front room with the wife and two children. Just like all the family used to crowd around the TV for Bullseye in the olden days.
I’m sure many of you out there will agree with me and do watch it too.
I’m not going to stop watching it and no groups are available for this addiction.
I urge one and all to watch this awesome programme. It is suitable for all ages and will make you laugh. I guarantee you will like it (this is not a law abiding guarantee and compensation will be given if you do or do not snort your tea out of your nose. Terms and conditions apply).
That is all.
I mean, I must not be the only one that has to suffer utter incompetence at work? The kind of stuff that makes you ask how these people are still alive?!
Ok, a bit dramatic there.
Today’s topic for discussion is stupid people at work. Now we all know stupid people, chances are you have spoken to some already today, and even taken the time to laugh at these people.
You are entitled to do so.
Stop. I do not condone bullying or ‘trolling’ (is that a relevant term? I was trying to be ‘with it’) but a line must be drawn. If they struggle to grasp the simplest of tasks, say like turn a computer on, then ridicule must be delivered. I mean, they work in an office and have done so for some time, how can you not know how to work your computer? Fear not though, they are a dab hand with a fax machine!
Pffft. Fax machine. Ha.
Right, well today is one of those days for me. Actually it’s every day but today I’m writing it down. I’m not going to tell you where I work, that wouldn’t be fair, but it’s a large organisation with lots of offices.
It’s a typical office environment with a plethora of personalities, some weird, a few normal (ish). The workers who sit quietly tapping away on their keyboards, stopping momentarily to take a swig of tea while the shirkers (of which there are maaaaany) who sit in the middle of the room offering their opinions on everything ranging from Emmerdale to capital punishment to anybody, whether they want to listen or not.
It’s the bosses that get me. You wonder how on earth they got their jobs. It wasn’t because they were skilled or creative, and it certainly wasn’t because of their attitudes. I don’t know, they mystery of management that probably won’t ever be solved.
My boss can’t even get the name of his OWN department right. He’s been supposedly been running it for eighteen months! How can you not despair!
I admit, there isn’t really a point to this post, I was merely just having a moan and hoping that I wasn’t the only one who has to endure this mire of incompetence.
That is all. Thank you for listening.