Boy idiot was cock-a-hoop today : he got an e-mail from the tennis player girly that he was lusting and dribbling over during the summer months.

It was all ever so sweet in a sickly, sacharine kind of way ...

To see him all flustered and flippy flappy * "whatd'wa do ? whatd'wa say ? huh huh ??" *

He spent all afternoon trying to copy out in rough and in longhand, what he was going to say.

I kept having flashbacks to the puppy in that advert from the '70s who gets all bundled up in reams of super soft luxury bog-roll and gets chased around the house by two of the most cutest, blondest haired, blue eyed catalogue kids ....

... All to the tune of Donny Osmonds "Puppy love" ... well, it's not actually in the ad as such; that's just me .. the kind of associations that i make sometimes .... I'll be seeking professional help any day soon now ;-)

His joy was short lived though, when he was finally cornered by a trainer wanting to know about the Christmas party (the lack of).

He stammered and uncommitedly said " yeah ... right ... i .. ahhh .. heuu .. i don't think there's going to be one this year" *rubs his finger nervously around his neck and under his collar* .... the trainer looked gobsmacked and the news then did the rounds like a dose of clap in a hoorhouse.

Even trainees were asking how come there's no 'do' ... someone asked me and i just said "You'll have to ask Missus Bosswoman"

On another note, we've been suffering a 'flash' traindrivers strike where they all drive in the nuddy and dangle their pink bits out of the cab window as they whizz through the stations *whoo hoo look at me missus* .........consequently the trains run to a strange kind of 'maybe' schedule : maybe there'll be one, maybe three'll running in the next ninety minutes.

Maybe there'll even be none running ... count 'em : NONE !!

Tonight coming home, people were pushing shoving and bitching non stop.