18 Aug 2003


The half yearly appraisal deadline looms, I cannot put it off any longer, I need to do Thrush’s appraisal. I call John One ‘Thrush’ because he is an irritating cunt, and his ability to get under the skin is no better illustrated than when he attends his appraisals.

I dread it every six months, because it’s the same every time: he folds his arms across his chest and stares at me like he is delivering some kind of Jedi mind-trick; “these are not the droids you’re looking for …”

He has this way of agreeing with everything I say but disagreeing at the same time by repeating things back to me arse about face, for example, while smiling: “Yes you’re right. I am a bit of a loner and don’t mix with the team. I can work on my own initiative.”

He’s like an itch that you can’t scratch.