Life And How Not To Live It

8.20am - Fuck! Forgot to turn my alarm on. It's new and the snooze button is hidden on the back of the clock. The last one had a meaty big kill switch on the top of it that you simply reached out to and tapped as you hit the hay. This one requires conscious thought to operate. Highly dangerous.

That said, I was out the door for 8.35, which is some sort of record, considering I managed to shower and make a packed lunch in the time available.

9.15am - Computer says No! It's still warming up. I make the mistake of summoning my email and the ruddy thing just freezes. Retire to the kitchen to microwave some water. The fucking fuckers in facilities have confiscated our kettle. I think they want us to use the machine in the corner of the kitchen, but I'd sooner drink from a puddle of piss. Mind you, the advantage in this is it encourages a little lateral thought, and a 'make do and mend' spirit. I think they wanted to get rid of the microwaves and toasters too, believing that all the sustenance a healthy office worker could need would be found in the acrid dog spunk pumped out of the vending machine, or in the salty goodness of a packet of Nice'n'Spicy Nik Naks.

No, really!

9.25am - Return to my desk, getting the beady eye from the line manager. Fanny! Computer looks to have sorted itself out, so I make a start on the days work.

9.30am - Hit the internet. Easy does it at first, nothing too crazy. Go to the BBC site to find out what Mad Boab Mugabe's been up to. Hope and pray that wee fucker Andy Murray has been knocked out of Wimbledon. Tim Hennman Loyal!! We Are The Peepel!!!

The set of eyes on the back of my head are working in overdrive. Every movement the two team leaders make is monitored through my peripheral vision and acted upon. The line manager has Ninja skills and can enter and leave a building without being noticed, though I think I have raised my consciousness to such a level that I catch his movements more than most.

1045am - The shrill, self important cow next to me starts her noise. It's not so much what she says, as the way she says it. She shows me a legal document. She expects me to give a fuck. I shrug, she chunters on, the world turns, lives begin and end............... Sometimes I make the mistake of starting a conversation and then she's just unstoppable. She will not shut up, repeating and embellishing anecdotes I've heard at least a dozen times before, in the manner of a third rate stand-up comedian. It's like she thinks she's performing or something and frankly, it's embarrassing.

11.30am - Fight with filing boxes. Filing boxes win. I shall return, I shall be avenged!!

12.30pm - Cover half of daily work quota. Feel good and reward myself with an extended toilet break, a cup of tea and..........My word! It's lunch time!!

2.00pm - More filing, just to get away from the chronic chat.

2.30pm - 'Celebrity Death Pool' idea mooted by someone. Like I don't lose enough money to these sharks already! My money's on Dawn French, Margaret Thatcher and Princess Diana.

4.00pm - The magic last hour. A time of fun and frolic. The time of day you can ramp up your internet abuse to maximum levels. "Set a course to the Partick Thistle Message Board Mr Sulu!"

5.00pm - Get cornered again by motormouth. I think I secretly enjoy it to be honest. I may need some professional help...........

5.30pm - Home! Put messages away and do dishes.

6.00pm - Go on the internet to check a few things.

8.30 - Yeah, checked them now.....................

9.00pm - Make dinner and watch football. Not a good move, overcook rice.

10.45pm - Eat. Not bad, curry leftovers from Sunday night. I live like a king really..............

11.15pm - Start writing this shite.

1.00am - Bed. Theres something I need to remember to do, but for the life of me..........................