This year at Christmas, we've decided – for a change – not to have a Secret Santa. Instead, and planning ahead for the Furtive Season, we're having an office Secret Satan.
It's exactly the same as a Secret Santa, except, after the traditional drawing of names, you leave a steaming turd in your chosen colleague's desk drawer and they have to work out – using their skill and judgment – from whom it comes.
An activity, you will be pleased to hear, that is guaranteed to break the ice at the office party. You'll soon be drunkenly throwing each other down the fire escape in scat-induced rage. And laughing about it, should you survive.
The challenge for the gift-giver, of course, lies in nipping off a length during the lunch break without being detected by your unwitting colleagues as they sup up their pre-Christmas cheer in the White Horse over the road. Slap a label saying "Do not open until Christmas LOL" on the drawer, retire to a safe distance and Robert's your aunt's live-in lover.
As usual: Extra marks for style, control, damage and aggression.
Yeah, I know. There's this list, and he's checkin' it twice. See if I care.
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