See those racks there? I looked at the endless ranks of women clothes stuffed tightly into every possible space. Not even an anorexic see-through nightie could find a spot to hang out. Well, my job was to move all the tee-shirts and clothes with multi-coloured labels from there... over to... there. No particular reason, it's just that managers like to see us working so invent tasks for us to complete. heck, this is like working in the army.

So KS and I began our task with our usual banter. In fact, my workmate is getting ideas in his head. today he even attempted to give me orders. He might have a hard-as-nails shaven head, but trust me, leadership material he isn't. Now that I mention it, the topic of conversation (What? Work silently? Pfah!) revolved around how dangerous certain parts of Swindon are. You could get mugged, beaten, even raped, in just about every part of our fair borough according to KS.

Erm... I walk through those areas without any problem... Both KS and J looked astonished. They could not believe that I'd not witnessed or been a victim of malignant youths hoping to grab a jail sentence. Looks like I'll have to make do with my noisy neighbours and that idiot who gets off on ringing my door bell in the small hours.

KS was busy hanging clothes as I went off to collect some more. I heard the bar fall out of the slot and the soul-crushing thwump of gravity stricken clothing.

"Awwww...." Said KS, clearly not impressed, "You did that! You didn't put that bar in right... Look at it... All messed up... It's all tangled up, Look... I gotta sort out each one... Awww this is gonna take forever..." Moan moan whinge whinge. He just didn't stop. I kind of chortled and left him to select a box to sit on while he sorted out the terrible mess. I heard a cry of alarm and another thwump as the box collapsed under him. Never have I laughed so much in a stockroom.

We're all agreed that Alice, our resident ghost, has been her usual malicious self.

Stock Search Party

By this afternoon we'd all gotten a tad bored. The work had dragged on, the banter had died, so when J returned and KS's girlfriend turned up after being dumped earlier in the day, we decided it was time for a stock search party. Without music of course, we're not insured to enjoy such delights up there.

The first party game was Who Do You Look Like?. According to Miss A (who appears to be KS's girlfriend again despite beating him at a playstation racing game and making his Male look decidedly less than Alpha) I look like Rod Stewart. I think Miss A looks like a girl who desperately needs a visit to Specsavers.

The second party game was How Old Are You?, which was almost amusing because Miss A was the only participant who didn't know my age and was hopelessly inaccurate. She thought I was 60. What a charming girl. She was suprised to discover that I was younger than her mum.

Official Announcement

Please do not panic. I wasn't stuck in the aisle earlier today, and despite a major pen failure, two trolleys of reduced price stock were completed. Just in case you were worried about the quiet bit just after lunch.

Driving Mister Brown

A shock horror discovery is that becoming a chauffeur for government officals in Britain makes you three times more likely to have a car accident. Whilst that looks bad (and Bully Brown apparently gets quite impatient with his drivers) it has been pointed out that it isn't always the chauffeur who's guilty of causing the damage. Which kind of means our government ministers are victims of the public trying to save Britain from government policy by bravely risking their lives in suicidal collisions. No wonder the government want us taxed off the road.

Ahh! Now I get it! The reason taxes are so high is pay off car insurance for big fuel hungry limousines that are driven by careless and bruised idiots. Either that or they're worried the British public will discover the delights of car bombs.

I should also mention the furore about Lord Ashcroft, who doesn't pay tax on his earnings despite being resident in the UK. Now I'm assuming he arranges his financial affairs legally, but it does look bad, especially since he bankrolls the Conservative Party in elections. No wonder the Labour Party are gnashing their teeth gleefully. Now they have someone other than Joe Public to blame after all those collisions on the way to work.