Miss L isn't speaking to me today. The enormity of the situation is soul-crushing. How can I go through life without Miss L's insightful commentary? I have become a lesser human being, relegated to the bottom league of social undesirables on slave wages. Plus I get attacked occcaisionally by rubber bands and rubbish thrown over the racks. Battered and bruised.

In order to restore my happiness, and indeed, my general sanity, the department store issued me with a high-vis jacket. For health and safety naturally. So far I haven't observed any particular threat to my well being other than Miss L's missiles (ho ho ho) and considering that the company uniform as worn by permanent staff renders them totally invisible in the darkened enviroment of the top floor, I find that a little odd. Personally, I have a suspicion that the managers want to see where I am at any givern moment. KS swears his high-vis glows in the dark. It does. It really does.

A Man Called Boris

As often happens with manual labouring I felt the urge to display my individuality today. It's our way of beating shop floor communism. So on the back of my high-vis I wrote in big black marker pen letters BORIS. That way everyboidy knows it's me and not someone else. Don't know why, they just will.

There's one thing that worries me. All my workmates have been hysterically embarrased by my new nickname. Why? What's embarrasing about being a BORIS? They bet me I wouldn't walk through the shopping centre at lunch. They refused to believe I consider walking down the local high street proudly bearing my name on the back of my high-vis.

But I did. And you know what? There was nothing to fear. In fact, the only reaction seemed to come from a group of lads of eastern european extraction who were audibly amused by the slogan. You see? You don't need to be the Son of God to spread happiness in this world. Let me explain...

Forgiveness Of The Week

Miss L has forgiven me. I can now go home with such deep inner joy that the poor lady who attempted to hand me one of those Jesus pamphlets was pushed aside. Who needs divine forgiveness when Miss L can do that for real?

"We've got a lovely message" She called after me. Yeah? Like what? Jesus loves me? I mean I've been with some boring girlfriends in my time but necrophilia isn't my style thank you very much, and whilst we're on the subject, there is such a thing as being a bit too far out on the feminine side.

Come to think of it, Christians always try to make people miserable. That way they can claim that life will be so much better when you sign up. Except it isn't, because all you do is surrender individuality again. Well, I'm too happy to worry about Jesus and his droids today, so I'll ignore the well meaning but hopelessly blinkered church communist like everyone else is.

After all, I'm a BORIS.