Today’s FOTD mixes dead flowers with the words of a man discribing a man who is metaphorically dead to me, the raisin eyed tool

Work has been boisterous if not tumultuous this week; managers scoring us on specification which no one uses anymore and threatening us with the consequences of failure whilst the manager with the little black raisin eyes watches from the sidelines, silent but present in on line meetings like the cunt of a coward he actually is, counting the days down to when he can turn on his pension and retire and fuck us all as he steps on our toes.

I wish I could tell you who I work for because I’m sure if the national press started having a sniff around then heads may well roll, if I win the lottery soon then I’ll tell all, especially the bit about the raisin eye manager who was caught with his penis out flashing at cars somewhere in Wiltshire. But those Doorways of the past seem locked at the moment, not least because I’ve forgotten who it was who told me the dirt on the button eyed twat. 

Yes i’m cross