The Disabled Bogs Are Flooded

The disabled bogs in work is where most people go for humping and pumping or self congratulations, but not today.

When we all got in this morning the disabled bogs were flooded, crying because Kissy Boy had left, Little My said, but everyone looked at the floor embarrased for her when she said this.

Truffle Shuffle and The Huffy Tortoise (who owns the building) were all parading about outside looking angry as fuck. The Uselss Arm Pit (the owner's brother and all round building handy man) was salivating and kept shouting "DON'T CALL THE POLICE!" They did of course and we were all ushered into our work cubicles. Here speculation was rife that Kissy Boy had fucked them up majorly when he went, no one could be sure but London Girl came in with a face like her heart was breaking and said:

"Kissy Boy flooded the disabled toilets," as if he'd done a turd on her living room carpet and rubbed her face in it, which he couldn't because London Girl is ex-TA and could put his head through a wall if she wanted.

Everyone was saying I told you so, and though it probably was him it could just as likely have been everyone else who hates working here. They've no more proof that Kissy Boy flooded the bogs than they do that he licks his own balls, and he's a lucky bastard if he can.

I think The Useless Arm Pit was wanting to go round his house and beat him up but I don't think he could bear himself in a came of Who Comes First?

Back To Work

A back to work interview is a weird thing. It's a formality and it's as scripted as the shit we go over on the telephone. It's a lot like having a conversation with an uninformed Mr.Spock.

London Girl sat and asked me what was wrong.

I told her I was ill, in bed fever,puking and the one that makes most people stop asking questions, diarrhea. It didn't feel like flu but we put it down as flu.

I only missed four days of work, so I didn't need a doctors note, I had phoned in before work started so I had followed procedure. All this aside, London Girl tried to barge on with a big grin and the words, "Absenteeism is unnacceptable." This was meant to be something she had to say and to be fair I think the just wanted to get it out and leave it there but I was pissed off so I started asking her what about the time she was snowed in and couldn't come to work.

She said that was different because she couldn't leave the house. I told her I couldn't leave me room and she started this pishy crap about how I could have sat at the desks and answered phones and all that balls. I said that I had no intention of soiling myself with diarrhea in front of the rest of the staff and that to expect me to do so was inhumane.

I think I made my point but I've a sneaking suspicion she won't forget it to me.

Ice Cold in the Face of the Truffle Shuffle

This morning I was called into the manager's office. Not London Girl's wee cubicle but the big head honcho guy. He's a big English squadie whose face wobbles when he gets angry. He was bloody fuming at me today and his face was getting on lick chunks belly when he does the truffle shuffle.



There, that's his fat fucker face. I sat there like Corey Feldman trying to keep ice cold (like Andre 3000) but big chunks of Truffle Shuffle's spit went all over my face. He also can't say his fs and launches into them like an exhausted hurdler smashing himself and the hurdle into shite as he misjudges the jump or his energy or both. Using this technique Truffle Shuffle can throw his breath in the same way a ventriloquist can throw a dummy.

Anyways it was about my being a bad mawfucka on the phones. I'm not getting the sack but I am on a final warning.

Kissy Boy gave me the thumbs up when I told everyone. Ice Cold.

First One To Leave

Rap Superstar quit today. Not in a big dramatic fuck you to the boss or anything. He'd handed in his notice last week and off he went (after emailing us all a shite rhyming couplet or two to say farewell). He's the first from our training group to go (the ones that made it past training that is - 9 left). Didn't last long.

Me and Little My were talking about it when Kissy Boy told us that there was only him and Book Boy left from their training groups and they'd been there only two months.

Seems turn over is really high in this job, so he says they're unlikely to fire me because they don't like letting people go after training them up, because they find it hard to hold to people anyway. Even if they do get cheap bowling at the Odyssey (company perk).

London Girl is still trying to make me sweat but Kissy Boy says that's just her way, he's had five final warnings but knows he's in with the bricks.

Spare Keys and Credit Card Details

I had to go and get a key cut on my lunch break today because Hot Baby Roy said he never had one last time he stayed. He said that Fabian Wildman must have kept his after he moved out. I didn't like the idea of him running about with a key because if he goes back onto crack he'll come round on the rob.

My boss was nice to me today, not especially just really cheery, which if my memory serves me (and with all the crack I've smoked sometimes it doesn't) means I'm about to get the boot. I made note of two wanky customers credit card details today, no sense ripping off nice people.

On the way home I thought up a song about needing money and asking people to spare change. I wrote it down but I saw a tramp in the rain with not much in his cup so I gave it to him. Should have kept it, might need it in a few weeks.

Getting Fired From Work

I might be getting fired from work for telling someone to smell my ring (when I came in drunk). London Girl called me into her cubicle (if she was a proper boss she'd have an office) and gave me a big officious talk about our company and how it value's customer service. I just nodded and said that it wasn't me. She said I'd find out later in the week if she was going to take it any further. If she does she might find that I've taken down some customer credit card details for when the money runs out, but by then I'll be long gone.

Up her hole.

With that Hot Baby Roy was waiting outside my house when I got home from work today. He was all excited and grinning so much I asked him if he was in pain. He said no but while he was waiting for me my neighbour went running into her house and he couldn't wait to get to know her.

I asked him did he not meet her at my birthday. He says he was too wing-wanged to be thinking about pussy but that he spoke to her while she was getting her keys out and that she teaches aerobics, which means she has lots of leotards and he'd seen Buns of Steel loads of times so he'd have lots to talk about with her.

He was salivating at the mouth so to calm him down I asked him what he wanted.

He asked if he could stay at mine for a few days because this gang was going to kick the shite out of him.

I couldn't refuse, he'd everything (including a set of shite DVDs) in a paper Primark bag.

How to Get on the Internet at Work!

I can post at work now because Book Boy showed me a way of getting on blogger. See on Internet Explorer everything like this is blocked but if you use Firefox nothing is blocked. The tech dudes are a bit pish like this. Anyway Firefox is hidden away in some folder so the bosses just don't seem aware it's there. He said to keep it to myself because only a few of us know about it and if the boss finds out shit will fly.

Speaking of the boss, there's a lot of them about and I don't want to dump them all on you at once so I'll talk about my team leader London Girl. London Girl is from London and always bangs on about it, how it's bigger than Belfast and how Belfast closes down at night but London never stops. Little My said if she doesn't like it here she should fuck off back there. Book Boy says this is racist but Little My says it's not because London Girl is white. I think Book Boy has a point though. I think London Girl might be alright outside of work but in work she likes to crack the whip. I think in a past life she might have been a slave driver and maybe that's why she's experiencing racism in this life.