Dear Lord. Why hast thou forsaken me? I love thine creations and thine creatures (except stag beetles. They can fuck off), and thou hast chosen for me to suffer. Why, oh Lord, why?
To be honest, having to work through the weekend hardly means that God doesn't like me. I bet I'm one of his favourites (after Ringo Starr and Boris Johnson). To be honest, all I had to do is labour with power point for a few hours. hardly like being nailed to a cross, is it?
I had "time team" (with Tony Robinson of Maid Marion fame) on in the background but could hardly concentrate on the goings on. When I had finished my presentation, I sent it to Ade for his approval. He said the following in email form:
Dear Alex,
I am writing to tell you that this is by far the worst ever thing I have ever read. I have taken the liberty to send it to the "Daily mail" so they might publish it as an article. Furthermore, I ask that you never contact me again in either a professional or personal way. You are nothing to me.
Lots of love, Ade
If the presentation isn't going well tomorrow, I may flip out and profane.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
That's nothing like what I said. You're not nothing to me at all, you're a pain in the arse.
I do love you though, spaz monkey. In the end I thought you did a tip-top job explaining stuff to the assembled hordes, and you didn't get a hard on once, unless you have learned to conceal it after last time.
Just tucked it into the ol' sock, I did.
It talked at one point:
"Feed me Seymour!"
Post a Comment