Tag Archives: pet hates

is there a god?

It may be unorthodox, but I suspect the interview technique for anyone applying to be a telephone operator on the BT technical helpline, is that they sit the prospective applicant in a chair and ask them to read a script out loud while people throw things at them – paperclips, pens, mouldy slices of half-eaten pizza – anything that might distract them. And if they can get through this process without deviating from the script or answering the one serious question asked of them in the midst of all this mayhem, then the job’s theirs. And why do I suspect this? Bitter experience.

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A nasty gash

I’m writing this as I sit waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I thought I’d better get in touch with them after receiving an urgent telephone call earlier from an intense young man concerned about my health and wellbeing. He wasn’t a doctor, a nurse, not even a voodooist sticking pins in an effigy of me whilst sacrificing a squawking chicken, he was just some average bloke who was convinced I’d had an accident recently.  At least, that’s what he said.

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