At work, I was detained by a woman from Human Resources who looks like the lead singer of The Troggs, only slightly more worn. Taken at a disadvantage by her awesome ugliness, she managed to suck me into her vortex of tedium by asking how I would approach mental health issues in the office.
"With a straitjacket and a tranquilizer dart." I replied. "Or, if the items were to hand, with a large net and a pitchfork, rather like a retiarius in the Roman arena."
Silence reigned between us. Somewhere in the distance, a phone rang.
"You know," Miss Presley eventually sighed. "I'm quickly getting sick and tired of your flippant responses to everything."
I wanted to say, as Viola exclaims in Twelfth Night: "The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment." But I just shrugged instead.
File under: Wastes of time
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