March 13th - March 19th 2006
Sunday Tobacco Dock
Saturday Nasty spill
Friday Kafka
Thursday Tobacco Dock
Wednesday Badgered
Tuesday Apprenticed
Monday Hay on why
Sunday 19th March
Tobacco Dock, Spring 2006
Saturday 18th March
I was overwhelmed by a fellow-feeling for every woman I know at 6:15 this evening on the eastbound platform at Canada Water when an attractive black girl, patiently waiting for a train, heard a rustle and a muffled thump and looked down to see her split carrier bag unceremoniously disgorging four pairs of shoes and a crumpled crisp packet.
Friday 17th March
The next time somebody catches you not being very good at something (and I appreciate that may be a good long while), quote Kafka:
"I can swim just like the others. Only I have a better memory than the others. I have not forgotten the former inability to swim. But since I have not forgotten it, being able to swim is of no help to me; and so, after all, I cannot swim."
Thursday 16th March
Tobacco Dock, Spring 2006
Wednesday 15th March
I'm indebted to the Sun for its story about Fiona McColl, a woman who is a senior child protection officer by day and - wait for it - a witch by night.
Very curious. (I'm surely not the only person who remembers the Broxtowe case?)
But the bit that really sticks in my memory is Ms McColl's reported claim to be "very in touch with my inner badger"...
Tuesday 14th March
I've been more than a little surprised by how enthralling I've found the latest series of The Apprentice, in which a motley collection of corporate bottom-feeders compete for the chance to work for Amstrad's Alan Sugar.
It's reality television, theoretically - though what kind of reality it is in which people wouldn't rather stick pencils in their eyes than work for Amstrad escapes me - and as such its entire justification is, of course, to present us with a series of characters that we can detest, despise or, failing that, loathe.
To this end - and entirely in keeping with my own experience of modern British corporate management - any reference to universal values such as justice or fair play are ruthlessly excluded.After each week's task, the leader of the losing team is invited to pick two other team members to join in a post-mortem, at the end of which one is sacked: Sugar has not yet thundered, "The fact that your team fucked up is entirely down to you, but the public loathe you so much we're hanging on to you in the name of Good Television, and sacking some other poor sucker instead" but he will.
If you trust the tv presentation (and why would you?) two team members are especially loathsome - and can therefore be tipped to stay right to the end.
Jo is a frizzy haired Brummie who couldn't manage her way out of a broom cupboard - think Anita Roddick as crack-whore - and gives her occupation as Human Resources Manager, an transparent lie given her ability to get anyone's back up within a minute of meeting her.
My favourite Jo moment - meaning the time when I came closest to reaching into the screen and poking out her eyes - was when she and her fellow team members were informed of their prize for winning last week's task: dinner at - gasp - the Oxo Tower Restaurant.
"There's a firework display this evening..." says Sir Alan (Jo beams, her clenched fists treadmilling with delight) "...and I shall be joining you..." (Jo's eyes roll back in her head as her feet beat a little tattoo on the boardroom carpet) "...with my family" (Jo wets herself. All this and Sir Alan Sugar's family too!).
After all, who needs talent when you can do orgasmic sycophancy?
Jo's current competitor for arch-tosser who merits a great big slap is Syed: an "entrepreneur" - ie salesman - with very bad skin who has, it must be admitted, a certain low sleaze-appeal. (He looks as if he needs to be buggered on a cushion, basically.)
This week, faced with the need to organise 100 chicken tikka pizzas, Syed managed to order 100 jumbo chickens - and still managed to evade responsibility for going massively over budget. More of him another time.
Monday 13th March
Overheard at the office
A: Whats this bloody horse-racing called?
B: Cheltenham Festival
A: Are we capping up the F?
C: Yes on Sport, apparently not on News
A: ...
C: Don't ask.
A: Bloody silly name
C: Makes you think it's going to be warm white wine in a marquee
B: Like Hay on Wye?
A: Which itself sounds like a sandwich
B: For horses
A: Which brings us full circle.
......previous week
