There’s a worrying backpressure in my head as an ever increasing nonsense of articles serially stack up, impatiently waiting for their electronic passport to the blogsphere. A ruthless first in-first-out approach has so far served me well. But my blog-time-slice today has rejected a serious discourse on the heath and safety realities of pear trees, once a non maskable interrupt delivered this queue jumping injustice.
I completed a piece of work, so tedious it almost triggered a career change and retraining as a goat fimbler, under the strict and binding understanding that my reward would be a chocolate of sufficient calories to power a small army.
But the days of a deal being done on a firm manly handshake and look in the other fellows eye are lomg gone; I received instead an e-mail with this picture inside:
The chocolate of complete deception
While it ticks all the boxes in terms of mixed with cow juice and a total absence of praline, it is somewhat let down by its’ electron only form. I’m sure you’ll agree that my grievance is well founded; rather than tucking into a vision of chocolately loveliness, I’m left with nothing more than an Inbox based facsimile. This episode of cruelty by a colleague, who I’d naively treated as a friend until this blatent instance of non delivery, has left me shocked and stunned
Also, even as an image it lacks something. Kind of stumpy and imprisoned in frilliness. Not really a boys chocolate which should be crafted in the shape of a motorbike, and of a similar scale.
You see, I told you it was important.
Anway to make the point, I’ve eaten the monitor. Kind of glassy with a hint of plastic but a robust capacitor and a stomach pump finish has almost made up for my intense disappointment.
I’ll not name and shame the scandalous individual but you know who you are DON’T YOU SARAH.