Well, there was something about golf and rain and a lot of stress over things going live but, while I was in the office, I certainly was not of the office.
I'm a headphones man and this ought to surprise nobody, given my pencil thin tolerance of sales drones.
They moved up to our floor a few weeks ago, giving it Glengarry this and Glen Ross that.
They have no sense of humour, saving all their bonhomie for their hostaged pub owner down the phoneline. Poor fucker, having to listen to that scripted shite and vague questions about how his wife or same sex partner is doing.
One lad, one of these sales boys, was even heard to shout out "that's how we. make. THE MONEY!" after one of his pitches hit the spot. Geebag. He's the one who steals our papers without asking.
Also in the news, a good week. Coppinger Row for the second best black pudding starter of my days, a Black Thursday spent boozewards, debates over the colour of Tuesday and a few tongue tied moments spent on a couch that's new to me.