Wednesday, February 15, 2012


I get these strange compulsions from time to time. I get the sudden urge to do something completely irrational or stupid. 

As I walk through the open plan office space as I go from the printer to my desk, with a look on my face like I have just sucked a lemon, it might be difficult for the casual observer to imagine that I am merely suppressing the urge to do a silly dance between the rows of desks while shouting 'Wibble' or 'Big Fat Cocks'. 

When I walk by a river, I want to throw things into it. Not useless objects like rocks, twigs or the Trappist EO, but things that enhance life, such as an Mp3 player or  my shiny smartphone (not of the variety prefixed with a lower case 'i') with its Monty Python soundboard.

When I see a BMW X5 parked on a footpath, it's all I can do not to let the air out of its tyres, and lie in wait for its inevitably Ugg-booted occupant to return, so I can kick her up the hole. 

I've been successful so far in the suppression of my urges, but I very nearly put my fucking foot in it yesterday. 

The Hexecutive was speaking to me about boring filing systems (yet again - yawn!) and asked me for my opinion on where a particular type of document should go. I took a deep breath.


...was the response that instantly popped into my head. No, I didn't say it. I took another deep breath and murmured something about filing it under the 'miscellaneous nonsense' section, excused myself to the bathroom and did that whole lemon-sucking facial expression all the way there to prevent myself from laughing out loud like a loon. 

 I'm worried now. I wonder is coffee the reason?