kill a man for his biro today
Here I am in the shopping’n’mugging capital of Yorkshire (no, not Hebden Bridge). Set off dead early to meet someone at 9.30. Got threatened by a dosser in the underpass… had no money on me but offered him the only thing I had… a chewed-up Bic pen. Was in the office by 8.00. Got some work done. 9.30 comes and goes and the bloke I’m supposed to be meeting still hasn’t shown up. I call him. No answer. I leave a message reminding him of our meeting. Ten minutes later I get a sheepish call telling me that there’d been a Christmas do last night and he’s still in bed in a hotel room in Leeds somewhere!
Time is money you know. Still, when he eventually rolls in I reckon we might shelve the meeting and nip off a for a bacon butty.
I was on a Christmas do last night myself on’t’other side o’t’Pennines. It was one if those where your obliged to go but you’ve got a two hour drive home afterwards and your sober as a judge desperately trying to get into the groove by wearing a cheap paper hat and sliding your hand up the skirt of the inebriated temp next to you.
There were seventeen of us squashed onto a table for eight. No-one could remember what they’d ordered, so more or less accepted what was flung at them by the harassed-looking staff. Except for Mr Spoons next to me that is who sends everything back to the kitchen because he’s allergic to wheat. (What a great job it must be scraping the bread crumbs off deep-fried brie only to send it back out again).
Of course the jokes in the crackers were as naff as always. Mine was even misprinted and had only the punchline on it:
“Because William Shatner!”