toxicsoup

Well, not toxic, exactly... maybe just a little bit rank. But in a nice way. With a garnish.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

rash

Owwwwwwwwwwwwww!

“If you give me your details, I'll pass them on to him when he gets back”, I say in a fake-jaunty phone-voice.

I was unlucky enough to be closest to the phone when it rang. My colleagues, I notice, all seemed to be very VERY Busy, suddenly.

I write the message into the Message Book, eyes watering somewhat.

“AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!”, I think to myself, sneaking a quick scratch with the clicky-end of my pen.

“No problem. Is there anything else I can do to help?”, I chirp, threateningly.

I learned this particular Telephone-Voice from the Customer Services Desk at Asda, where they manage to say all the right things but, with a professionally-developed scornful top lip glaring challengingly at you. I think it is the law that you have to be able do this lip-thing before you can be placed in any position of responsibility. They do it at hotel receptions, too.

“Bugger off!”, I think, frantically. “Go.Away.Go.Away.Go.Away.Bugger.Off”

Not that I'm accepting any responsibility, but I was involved in a terrible hair-removal accident a couple of days ago, in a sensitive area*.

*Note. The hair-removal was in a sensitive area on my body, not in a sensitive area like in the Central Command Post of MI5 or in say, a WI meeting in Afghanistan.

“Bye then”.

I slam the phone down and sprint quicker than the eye can see, to the kitchen where I pretend to wipe surfaces, scratching furiously as I go.


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