Once upon a time a young man named Phillip was on the interwebamajig and happened to stumble onto his union’s website and discover:
That is all
I’ve been promoted, kinda. I was chief folder of paper and utiliser of the sacred photocopier, however I am now an official charged with the divine duty of responding to enquiries which should happen arrive by the magical speaking tube and of effecting excellent and timely service to the customers who should be so lucky. Otherwise known as a customer service assistant, but what of brevity, ey? You’re just jealous that you don’t get such exciting conversations as I do!
Indeed. Good lord no. In the first place, why? I am well aware I am unable to stop myself, perhaps there’s a group I should seek out. If the article I read is true, I have comparatively very little to worry about, and I know the solution anyway (mistiness ensues).
In other good lord no news, drivers are stupid. Do not overtake me when I am pootling along at the speed limit. They are there for a reason: to exhtort as much money from people like you through the use of speed cameras. Vive la democratie ! Chelsea tractors in Guiseley – what on earth posseses people? For what purpose do you need a 4-wheel drive hardxcore yocking great cross-country driving machine at half past eight outside morrisons? Are you going to scale a lettuce mountain or something. Think of your CO2 emissions please.
In other news, yes to parties. But not full of doddery old grannies, rain or work. All three is a recipe for suffering, especially when combined with the prospect of children’s entertainment. Damn my CRB check. All will be revealed tomorrow in more party-fantastic news.
