The Staff Ball^H^H^H^Hparty was early this year. Early by normal work standards, late by capitalist standards. The joyless misery of “so here it is merry christmas”, “simply having a wonderful christmas time” and “ho ho ho it’s a magical snowy christmas wonderland for charity” being played in the opressivly brightly lit warehouse stores, has been with us for about 6 months now. But this year’s ball^H^H^H^Hparty was the best for years. There was a lot of speculation about why this should have been the case but it seems pretty obvious to me; it can’t be a coincidence that this was the first christmas party for years where they gave everyone a glass of “champagne” at the door.

Anyway – good fun. Dan and I walked home and realised that the best plan would be to lie down in the mud in hilly fields for a while and call Rakesh. Luckily he was awake, otherwise our demented chatter would have been recorded by his voicemail, encoded as MP3 and distributed all over the Internet by now.

Ooh – Humph is on his way out of the cage. I suspect he wants to go over and hassle Tim. Earlier on he caused a right kerfuffle(tm) and I was a bit pissed off with him. But after an evening of Tim eek, eek, bloody eeeking, I’m tempted to stand on his cage and crap….

Also – the word “property” should be banned from television. I thought makeover shows were bad but fucking bloody fucking property bastard bloody Daily Mail property programmes DIE DIE DIE.