Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Sleepers Awake

Monday night was a pain in the arse. The squealing winds and pissing rain prevented me from getting my usual eight hours. I can normally sleep through wind but getting up for a wee at 4 am and hearing the deitritus from local knacker- drinking activities being blown up and down Ballyfuck Main Street made the prospect of a return to my dream about Johnny Wilkinson impossible. Looking out my bedroom window, I witnessed an empty Stella can noisily overtaking a Heineken one. A battered Miller box came bumping along a short time later and could be seen adorning the unfinished boundary wall of the local ghost estate the following morning.

The lack of sleep due to the aluminium marathon outside didn’t help the clarity of thought at work yesterday.

A random conversation regarding a smelly weird colleague went thusly:
HEO: I saw him in Nobber last week.
Govstooge: Eugh! He had his knob out? Dirty bastard! Did you report him to the Gards?
Govstooge: Oh, right.
EO #2: What, was he pissing on the side of the road in Nobber?
HEO: Jesus.
Govstooge: Maybe I should go home now.

And no, catching up on sleep at work is a non-runner. The HEO's the one with the pointy stick now.