No, I'm not writing "A Handler's Guide To Amorous Pet Nasties"
No, it's not the tale of how schoolchildren everywhere spent their youthful years smashing into lines of their peers and running endlessly back and forward.
What I am doing, is narrating the epic love story of two bulldog clips who found each other and stuck together through thick and thin.
Of course, if you don't follow me on Twitter;
a) You should.
b) This won't make any sense.
There's also good potential that if you do follow me on Twitter this won't make any sense. The person at the desk next to me just noticed what I was doing and said, "What have you done to your desk?". I sort of looked at what I had done to my desk and decided my explanation wouldn't really be too coherent to most people.
"Nothing much, I just got so bored I started seeing all the ways you could make two bulldog clips look like they were lovers. Then I found some snow globes and wondered what would happen if they went on holiday... the whole thing just kind of escalated. I'm so sorry. Stop? No, I can't... then they'll never get home..."
It's my last day at
There's every chance that this whole thing is a side effect of a weird headache I've got now in my cheek. I'm not sure whether that should be called a headache, but I think cheeckache sounds like a stereotypical deaf person saying cheesecake so I want to avoid any controversial issues. There's nothing on NHS direct about strokes causing obsessive bulldog clip based behaviour so I think maybe I'm just bored and they were the nearest things to me.
Yesterday we had a bit of a dispute in the booking team as to whether animals are capable of cognitive thought. Today I might escalate my passionate argument of "of course they fucking do" to, "stationery do too!" and just see how many feathers I can ruffle. I can submit my photo diary of the love affair as evidence that what we've actually been doing all these years is enslaving a nation of office products into doing our most loathed jobs. WHSmith will be exposed for the concentration camp that it is and Paperchases everywhere will be stormed by "Rights for Stationery" activists.
Once we've shovelled all the stationery out of the shops we will let it run free (except the paper because that will look like littering and this isn't the Railway Children) and people will remark about what a pointless exercise it was because they are not moving. Because they are stationery. Stationary. GET IT? I would be nothing if I didn't shoe horn in an awful pun somewhere along the line. Is the joke finished? Yes, that was the whole punch line. Hole punch. GET IT? Oh man, somebody stop this comedian... we're going to have to staple her lips together. Stapler. GET IT? That wasn't even so bad it was good... that had the word staple in it? Why not just leave it at staple which is also stationery? Why does it have to be the implement? Get a job. You've got one? Yes. I'm not even clear who's talking to who anymore, where's the punctuation? Where did you guys come from? You came from the earth? Where? Oh, over there? Wait a minute, that's no globe. Snow Globe. GET IT? Yes, I know it's not stationery but for some reason there are two on my desk so it's allowed... It's not allowed. Go home before you hurt somebody.