Happy new year, did I mention that before? It’s been a while and I’m trying to put my finger on why I haven’t been writing this guff regularly for what seems like an age. Tiredness mainly and lethargy with a sprinkling of the realisation that people probably have too much content to read these days. I say read, but it’s only soundbites and limericks people are invested in these days. Lazy arse idiots. Read a book and start collecting beach glass; invest some time in something other than giving yourself arthritis doom scrolling towards an underfulfilling dopamine underdose looking for that ultimate cat nip of billions of pixels jostling under your eyes for your attention.

I think for me, as much as anything else is my job has become comically untenable, a jumble of wires being untangled by the berserkers who created the knot only to repeat the process once again and again and again. I’m pretty conscientious at work; good at my job, efficient, couldn’t give a fuck about the managers or management structure; they all seem far too involved and tend to overcomplicate matters, slow death and lethargy by unnecessary admin and process they create which in turn further complicates things. You know who you are, you show off Judo playing joey, every 3 months we have a review of the 1/4 and this one chucklehead Mac (who told us his nickname and asked us to call him by it when he first met us. You have to earn a nickname, good or bad, which is why I just call him Twat), the architect of all this nonsense with the patter of a poor photocopier insurance and replacement ink cartridge salesman insists with all your analysis and cloth headed social awareness, Christ on flipping paddle board.  When I grow up I never thought I’d be working for a company with such kudos and history to see it function as the character in Hannibal  having his brain cut out and fed to him. I think the chaos  we are seeing now is probably quite palatable to myself because I suppose my life has in parts been in the past pretty chaotic, for good and bad, but the position I find myself in these last 6 months is not dissimilar to sitting on a chair on the top of an embankment above the hard shoulder watching a teenager throwing breeze blocks onto the motorway relishing the carnage that follows. Understand I don’t want people to die, but you can’t take your eyes off this clusterfuck and I wonder when the teenagers will be taken away, locked up and forced to work back at the photocopier warehouse, leaving the breeze blocks to be swept off the road and into the central reservation where they are joined with plastic tango bottles full of piss.

Get ye to Kidderminster a wise man once said. 

No, all is not particularly well at the workhouse, but needs must and if I can continue to blag my way through it all then I probably will, but theres got to be a tipping point, right?  So I’ll try to get back on it for my millions of fans on here, but if anyone would rather photos of my hobbit feet please shout out and maybe I’ll try and monetise that instead.

The pension app on my phone is getting a daily hammering and yet still the years of working here stretch out infant of me. Good pension see, I’m institutionalised sadly.