Thursday, April 19, 2007



Chinny Reck-onWhen I first started working in this job (or rather, this job's now deceased ancestor) back at the arse end of the 1980s, your post came with an acronym. You lost your name and were simply known as your job title.

I was a "Berk", a Broadcast Reception Coordinator, and I remained a Berk for many, many years.

To make things worse, I genuinely believed my boss was actually called Mr Amos, when, if fact, it stood for Assistant Manager Operational Services and his name was actually Keith. In the old days, the Big Boss used to be known only as GMM. Now he is merely "Chris".

People who have worked here longer than I remember seeing memos which featured long, long lists of acronyms and not a single name. Instead, there would be little notes in the margins such as "APRA - task MMNT and NBOT on this project, GNOOP"

It's a shame they no longer do this, as I have recently become a chief sub-editor after several years as Technical Operations Supervisor. Yes, I was a TOS-ser and proud.

My plan to rename our department Signal Management and Editorial Group cruelly struck down (by a manager who realised his job title would be SMEG Head), I now dream of becoming Producer Electronic News and Information Services.

You: Yes, you: Describe your job as an acronym. Extra points for style, control, damage and aggression. Those of you in Higher Education need not bother, I've done one for you: Anally Retentive Student Emo - ARSE. There. No need to thank me.

And while you're at it, choose a story for tomorrow's Tale of Mirth and Woe. Choose. And choose well. The vote-o quote-os are - for once - 100 per cent genuine.

Doctors and Nurses: "You appear to have clubbed yourself in the face with a length of wood. I've got the very thing for that."

Bullshit: "So, what were you doing looking at his cock, you enormous Gaylord?"

A Trip to Edinburgh: "Oh, ignore her, she'll give you the clap. I've got all my own teeth, you know."

Grand National: "Jimmy Hill!"*

* I once stood next to the great man in the urinals at Fulham FC's Craven Cottage ground. I can report - and not a word of a chinny reckon - that it's nowhere as big as his chin.

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