We have builders on Friday, so I won't be around to post up the regular story. So.... I'm going to impose The Raspberry Club on you with the Acme Blogger Auto-Publishing gubbins so the story should appear, all being well and with a following wind, sometime on Friday morning.
I'm also changing my working hours for the next three months, so God alone knows when this rubbish is going to get written, but regulars will be pleased to note that some of it is actually quite normal.
Oh, the agony
If Ann Widdecombe can have an advice column, then so can we. Send your most embarrassing personal problems to the usual address, and after we've finished laughing at them (don't worry, we'll be laughing with you, not at you), we'll post them up on these pages with humiliating and pointless answers. Just like Ms Widdecombe, then.
Dear Uncle Scary,
I sloped into work this morning to find my boss has given my desk to a new boy. Would should I do to get this prime piece of real estate with window views of the City of London back? Yours, Disgusted of Clapham.
My Dear Digusted,
There are ways and means of achieving your goal, several of them legal. Firstly, have you attempted the tried-and-tested "accidental" hand on the knee? This comes with the warning that this plan can backfire spectacularly.
Alternatively, you might wish to feign mental disability and have a Rainman style spack-out of screaming and self harm until your nemesis either vacates your desk or resigns on his first morning.
However, I find that by offering the new boy a "peace offering" of a tube of smarties filled with killer wasps never fails. As you know, many people give the tube a good shake and down the contents in one straight from the package. While he's in hospital, the desk is yours. How you get the wasps in the tube is your own affair. Who do you think I am, some kind of magician? Yours, Uncle Scary.
See? Piece of piss. Send-o!
A colleague's just got back from working in Yemen. I don't know if you've ever flown in "developing" nations, but they are noted for the bonkers hand luggage people bring on board with them. In my experience, I've seen a ten foot scaffolding pole, thirty blocks of lard and a bucket of live worms. A box of snails for a top hotel in Brazzaville got its own seat in first class.
On Smithy's flight to Abu Dhabi, some chap boarded the plane with a pot of fish soup, which he stowed in the overhead lockers.
All well and good, right up to the moment the aircraft took off with everybody strapped helplessly in their seats...