If you think the title is great; stop reading, it’s got noting to do with evil potatoes, but its definitely got legs now I come to think of it.

Watched a football game, on the telly and it turned out to be thrilling; i’m not a huge fan of watching anyone apart from Leicester,  I don’t generally enjoy watching other teams play, and don’t really enjoy watching Leicester, the mighty foxes play either for that matter; we’re playing like a team of smoke particles this season, random with absolutely no ability to stay alive for a full 90 minutes plus stoppage time.

Yesterday was a grim day; felt like crying, the redundancy threat hangs over the whole team and whole company like a skin on a mouldy brew, unescapable, viscous. The bastard management liars are still lying to us and last week the head of our department was utterly perplexed by what direction the business is going in the very close future, she was lost for words and then told us she was curious to see how this all pans out; like a full kettle being thrown on a bonfire, it’ll fucking boil and then fucking fracture and all the boiling water molecules will have to try and get jobs as steam or ice or plasma. The rumour mill this week and the last has been full of misinformation, conspiracy and uncertainty, if you do anything in your life do not move to England and get a job with these charlatans, you’ll have to work out where for yourself, by which time it’ll be too late and you’ll be institutionalised, like me. With your mother shouting down the phone at you to see if you’ve sorted out here house insurance, if you’ve called the roofer because the tiles are tumbling off the roof and meanwhile the walls leak re-employed water particles into the already damp atmosphere. We went out with her last Saturday and she warned us that

“we are now in a minority”

and

“You’ll see, you won’t be able to do what you used to when they take over” 

“What?”

“Sharia Law”

“Its not going to happen Mum”, I said desperately trying to steer her onto more pressing issues such as looking at houses to buy in Clifton and making sure slates don’t fly off the roof and slit the post mistress clean in two, which in fairness is more likely that Sharia Law in England. The Fucking Daily Mail and Right Wing Press certainly has a lot to answer for, turning an inwardly looking lonely elderly lady into a screaming nasty biggot, who in the blink of an eye can turn back into the sweet old lady deciding what pudding to eat, whilst barely eating anything during the week.

“But they’re taking over, you’ll see, you’ll remember this conversation when I’m dead and gone, and then you’ll hear me say,

“I TOLD YOU SO”

I’m trying to forget the conversation as I type. Big meeting tomorrow, when Phase 2 of redundancies may well be alluded to in an oblique, but we really care for you, way.

Fuck them all. February is turning out to be a shocker.