The High-Octane Midlands

I have to shake my shaggy head at the proportion of classless yahoos that cling like ass-worms to the notion that the makings of a man are a really big spoiler and blue downlights. Nowhere is this more true than in the primordial ooze of Ireland's midlands.

Well, it appears this phenomenon is to plumb new depths. Trying to steal an edge on a flagging property market, just look at what's selling in Carlow this month...

Would you leave your child alone with this man?

Choosing a therapist must be a tricky business. This amiable, trendy, child-psychopatherapist man struck me as just the right dose of happy-go-lucky potion when he first arrived into the studio. He was looking to have some promotional gift mugs designed to give to people who, presumably, he had gauged as prepossessing of some deep-seated mental deficiency or psychological darkness that would soon need the delicate probings of a penis envier with a couch. He was all talk of the developing id and the importance of helping a child to share, emotionally and I have to say that we were all quite taken. Little did we suspect the boiling Versuvius that slept restlessly beneath this sunny facade.

He arrived back into the studio about ten minutes ago, snarling and finger-pointing and smashing his mugs.
(That's him in the picture)

Never leave your child alone with this man!
Oh, and retrospectively, I stand by my typesetting.

Sometimes no amount of proofs can save you!...

Crap, the rain is back - like Herpes!

Introducing Colleagues

This is one of my co-workers. He's so dull. When he talks to you, his voice gets drowned out by the sound of wax building up in your ears. I've been trying positive interventions, such as hiding under his desk when he leaves the room in order to frighten him on his return. It hasn't worked. He emailed a complaint to the boss and CC'd me. I emailed him back some links to websites of assisted suicide organisations. I hope he finds them helpful.

I wonder what he's like when he's not at work?...

He just emailed a complaint to the boss about me taking his picture. What a dullard!

When Everyone Else Has Gone Home

I’m working late tonight. This has been happening a lot lately. Sometimes, when everyone else has gone home, I like to take off all of my clothes and sit in Clodagh's chair.

She brings personal items from the outside to brighten her workspace. I wonder at what these trinkets must mean to her.

I like Clodagh’s seat - high-backed, faux leather and where she has sat it smells like a salami sandwich at the seaside.