Thursday 18^th August

As I left for work, I passed the new family in the process of moving in. Tried to do a quick head count as I crossed the crowded lobby, but all I could see was a horde of blonde heads and dirty hands as they dashed between stacked boxes and black bin liners. A little girl in a tartan dress approached me, extended a grubby little hand and in the sweetest voice possible managed a single word. “Chocolate?” I looked at her adorable face, and the dimples set deep in her chubby cheeks and thought...not even if I was Willy Wonka himself. I deftly avoided the grimy hand still outstretched and made it to the front door without a single dirty paw print.

The sun made an appearance for the first time in weeks, and I decided to make the most of it. With an unmistakable spring in my step I walked to work, ignoring the bitter stares of my fellow citizens. Two cappuccinos and a forty minute stroll later, I descended upon Greenpeas in an uncommonly good mood. Whistling a jaunty tune, I sauntered through the swinging doors of the kitchen, only to be met by the cold hard stare of my boss. Murphy's Law: If your boss seems like a soul destroying, obnoxious, harbinger of death, then she probably is. With a menacing look in her eye, she started towards me.

Familiar with the rules of combat, though clueless as to what this was about, I reluctantly closed the gap. However, fear of unemployment caused me to hold my breath and just as we were nose to nose, I let it all out, along with an unanticipated burp. From the corner of the room, Bert let out a snigger, which he attempted to pass off as a cough. The Boss turned an unhealthy shade of purple, slapped a red plastic pocket on the counter and stormed out. No need to inspect the contents of the folder, as I am more than familiar with the details of my business plan. How she got her filthy paws on it is another matter.

Bert examined the document carefully, muttering the occasional “hmm” and “I see”, finishing it off nicely with the obligatory head shake. He looked up at me with a wry smile and said “You are so fired”.

Images of moving back home flashed through my mind...me sitting at the kitchen table getting the latest on who's died this week, me sitting at the kitchen table listening to regular updates on the health of each and every member of my family, me sitting at the kitchen table openly weeping now because I just can't take it anymore. Traumatised by memories of a down trodden upbringing, I snatched the folder from Bert's hand and made a dash for the boss’s office. I'm not too proud to beg! Bert grabbed me before I even got a foot out the door and offered another solution. His advice was simple;

-Quit. She can't fire you if you quit.

-That's true. Doesn't really solve my problem though.

-Fair point.

-Bert, I burped in her face.

-I know. Fucking priceless!

Rent: €900 p/month. Utilities: €200 p/month. Food: €300 p/month.

Burping in your bosses face: Fucking Priceless.

Will people ever stop ripping off that ad? Not me.

Bert made fun of Newbie to cheer me up, but nothing could distract me from thoughts of home. I wonder if anyone was diagnosed with prostate cancer or liver failure while I was away. Or maybe something sexier, like TB or gout. The Irish love a bit of old fashioned disease, reminds them of the good old days. If I'm very lucky, and that's a big if, I might even get to attend the funeral of my second cousins' great aunt, twice removed, whatever the hell that means. If I'm to believe my parents, I'm related to half the bloody town and the next town over. I hope to fuck it's not true or there's a good chance I was involved in some seriously incestuous relationships as a teenager.

The boss made an unusual number of trips to the kitchen today but made an obvious point of ignoring me. Feeling brave, I asked her about my hours for next week, but got no reply. Half expected her to turn to Bert and say “Did you hear something?” It quickly became apparent that she saw my exclusion from the conversation as a form of punishment, but all in all it was pretty good.

To add insult to injury, Newbie got a pay rise today. I have a dream and am punished. Newbie's a twat and is rewarded! I would truly be hard pressed to think of someone more idiotic and undeserving of a job, let alone a pay rise, than Newbie. He's about as useful as tits on a bull, a lighthouse in a bog, a twat in a restaurant! I informed Bert that we are not yet done with Newbie and I expect a plan by tomorrow. I want to see him cry. Time to take it to Def con 5 or Def con 1…whichever's worse.

Home time! I picked up dinner from the non-English speaking, Polish run, Chinese restaurant on my road. Food's only OK, but the service is entertaining. After my Polish Chinese, I got into bed with Jon Richardson's new book, “It's not me, it's you”. So far very good, I'm all about passing the buck. So single for eight years Jon? Strong wrists indeed.