THE Voice of Cod spoke to me last night. It said: "Bugger, I've forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer again!"
Actually it wasn't the Voice of Cod at all but Marc, our stand-in news editor, who has been trying to fill Kempy's substantial shoes for the last week while she's been on holiday. And it seems to have affected his dietary and sleeping habits very badly.
Every day this week he has been promising himself that he will rise early, remove the aforementioned chicken from the freezer and give it time to defrost while he's at work. And every day he has woken bleary eyed after a poor night's sleep, beset by worry and stress, rushed to get dressed and got halfway to work before realising that he's going to have to make do with Cod in the Bag again. Still, it's good for the brain power, isn't it? Or is that just codswallop?
Meanwhile, I imagine there have been a number of bells and whistles going off in our HR department of late. The world is now so PC that you are supposed to mind your P's and Q's. I even heard that swearing had been banned by one of our sister papers. A newsroom without swearing? That's like the last night of the proms without Land of Hope and Glory. It's tradition, goddamit!
New arrivals to the desk should therefore be treated very warily in case they are agents of the HR - it's all a bit "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, paperclip counter".
We had a new arrival this week. Emma. So imagine my surprise when Shutts naively blurts out a story of sexual deviance so gross that it would make Emmanuele blush. Silence. But not for long. The Robot spots his opening and pipes up. "Yeah, we did a piece on her once". Least, I think he said piece.
It was Rosey's birthday yesterday so we all filled up with cakes, then filled up with alcohol. I stumbled home to a cup of tea and some reheated noodles before catching the end of possibly the most dire and pointless chat shows ever produced. And I don't mean yours, Wossy.
Pillow watch: Just 24 hours left to suffer Withers. You're in the home straight, mate.
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