It would also explain why Im having such difficulty choosing between typing this or watching re-runs of My Name Is Earl and slugging down the remnants of a bottle of Tia Maria which is trying to pretend to me that it has medicinal properties.
Brummy Drummer Boy will be staying with us for a few days this week so I predict a couple of days of high amusement, late nights, alcohol poisoning and general bad behaviour unbecoming of persons in their middle years. Aaaaaaah well.
This afternoon, at Twat Inc, Dolores the Evil Boss called Slaveboy her office. About half an hour later he came out and started beavering away at something or other at his desk. Because I am a nosy bastard and he is MY Slaveboy and not hers, I asked him what he was up to. Because he is MY Slaveboy and not hers and he is way more scared of me, he told me all about special project that Dolores had given him, to analyse and measure the responses to our latest moronic ground-breaking sales initiative.
From: Stepfie
To: Dolores Umbrage � Head of�.ummm�..Stupidity?
Dolores,
Ref the project you have given Slaveboy. This project had already been completed. This morning. By me. I started this project last Friday at the behest of (Senior Manager who�s office is next to yours!) but, as you know, I have been on a photoshoot the rest of this week and so have only been able to work on it periodically for the last two days. It can be found on the shared drive at S:/Twat Inc/Fucking Obvious/xlsx. Im sure you wouldn�t want Slaveboy to replicate the work we�ve already completed so I will just ask him to add the additional fields you have requested and report back to you when he has finished.
S
From: Dolores Umbrage � Queen of Self-Validation
To: Stepfie
CC: Slaveboy
Yeh�..well��ummmm��..waffle waffle waffle�.appreciate your attention to this vital reporting tool�.corporate bollocks�..stress the need to maintain accurate recording processes in order to anticipate areas of future development
From: Stepfie
To: Slaveboy
If I didn�t know better I would think she is BCC�ing this shit to Toast so he thinks she�s coming up with these ideas herself.
From: Slaveboy
To: Stepfie
Look at this picture of this hot guy Im chatting with on Match
Attach: Date#738765423.jpeg
From: Stepfie
To: Slaveboy
Do some fucking work you lazy bastard. Or I�ll tell Dolores on you. That bloke looks like a knob-head. He�ll suit you down to the ground. Now stop bothering me, Ive got a sore throat and I don�t feel very well.
From: Slaveboy
To: Stepfie
You should suck a Fisherman�s Friend
From: Stepfie
To: Slaveboy
Don�t judge everybody by your own standards.
Hey! Remember Captain Skiver? He�s on my cast list somewhere. Regular readers will remember him as a retarded, South African, ex opera singing, ex employee who I campaigned for years to get rid of as he actually did NO WORK. Not �he was a bit lazy�, but he did actually, really, physically GO TO SLEEP after lunch and have to be coaxed awake (usually by dropping a pile of files on his desk or turning his phone up really loud and then phoning him from another part of the building).
Well, the silly old bugger went and died. Tomorrow � even tho its Dress Down Friday and I can officially wear jeans to work � I have to put on a black suit and go to his funeral cos, even tho I got him the sack I did actually quite like him in an exasperated way. And I was his boss.
Some years ago he got breast cancer, supposedly a reaction to some arthritis medication he was taking, although that may have been bollocks as he also told me that all black people are gay and that�s why they�ve ALL got Aids. The breast cancer was successfully treated at the time but Im told it was cancer that finally carried the mad, drunk old git off in the end so I guess it didn�t actually go away, just reappeared somewhere else.
His daughter was a nice lady and his sons were urbane, amusing and full of joie de vivre.
He taught me several useful phrases of Afrikaans. The first being an exclamation of delight at getting laid which translated as �Cunt is King� and secondly, a dismissive putdown, used in the same context as �shove it up your arse� but which actually meant �your mum�s vagina�.
He also lent me an ancient and dog-eared copy of �The Great Singers � From the Dawn of Opera to our Own Time� by Henry Pleasants. I never gave it back. I don�t suppose he�d mind too much about that and I DO now have an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the world of the castrati. I hope there is singing at his funeral � I will join in with gusto.