A small charity committee get-together has concluded. Having been one myself on several contractual occasions, one can always spot a civil-service lifer. They have this inane ability to naturally inject meaningless bullsh*t into the conversation "through the chair" (we were sitting on the sofa and armchairs, so it was an absolute bugger to get the 'chair' into the air so that "Sha" [Patricia] could speak through it.
Sadly, I haven't the space to be able to get away with playing "HR bullsh*t bingo" on the laptop I was taking minutes on, but I lost count, as well as the will to live, as a result of the number of automatic interjections of pure drivel she added to everything she said. We had ringfencing, bar raising, envelope pushing, blue-sky considerations (it's bloody dark outside woman!), gaining viable traction (I thought my laptop was the four-wheel drive version - plainly not).
And then she finished by discussing the DNA of Manchester Council (despite none of us having the appropriate scientific equipment) and finished with a quick "it is what it is" (which it actually wasn't this evening, but try telling that to a Grade 7 civil servant),
The red rag now being waved wildly by Reg (yes, we do have a Reg on the komm-ih-tee!) behind "Sha" as all and sundry put their coats on (thankfully, as I reached for my coat, I realised I live here, thus saving me having to risk the current -5° outside) meant I HAD to lower the tone. Announcing loudly, I said:
"I was in the Trafford Centre on Tuesday, and the lift there elevated me to a whole new level", I announced with a very serious look on my face.
The other four people, who like me, similarly appreciate the greatness of Sha's contribution to the proceedings, laughed quite heartily, while poor Sha was, as she might say in her own Grade 7 words, "left at the control gate" (none of us actually knows what that means).
While I have no idea of "Sha's" political leanings, I really feel there is a future LibDem town councillor, wound up like a coiled spring, waiting to burst out of her brown Next overcoat that was £17 ('still with tags from Vinted' according to "Sha").
Well, we’re used to hearing about the Camping Season , which for Scouts runs from approximately 31st March to 31st October each year, although Graham Norton’s camping season lasts all year. Then there’s the Caravan Season , where Jeremy Clarkson spends six months with extremely high blood pressure as he tries to overtake them on the A38 in an excruciatingly expensive and completely unnecessary car. The Japanese have their Scientific Season, which was a series of sporadic weeks where they slaughtered endangered whales for scientific research, the results of which seem to be a closely guarded world-secret. This season now looks set, thanks to a group of spineless, land-locked countries threatened by the Land of the Rising Scientific Research with paying more for their Nintendos and PlayStations, to last until the final whale is wiped off the face of the oceans. I have written to the Japanese Embassy four times now seeking details of this research (email address info@l...
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