Tingle Bells

It was a mistake to hold the ‘department do’ on a ‘school night’. I suppose they thought that it would encourage people to stay sober – not a chance.

The team body-popped into the office today like those zombies shuffling behind Michael Jackson in Thriller.

Tizzy has been ill. She threw up and missed the bin. I sprang into action immediately: “Please get a cleaner here ‘asap’” (I actually said asap – what have become?)

The cleaners refused to help. Apparently it’s not in their contract to clean.

Call Centre Tony showed some intiative and discreetly got the hoover out of the cupboard and hovered it up.

I can expect a witch-hunt when they come to empty that baby. Ah well – it’s Christmas.

Ian had been in his element last night, impressing the ladies with his Jingle Bells tie: “Press up to me and see what happens.” A tinny sound played: ting ting ting, ting ting ting, tingle ting ting ting…

It was awful. It was enough to get him a passport into Pat’s panties but little else and by the end of the night he was wearing them on his head while playing air-guitar; it was like he was massaging an invisible anaconda.