Oyster, Kohl Rabi sounds like a Jew wot wears eyeliner. He would probably be called Rimmel.
Yes, I think the job will be okay. Today I learned that Oracle is not, in fact, me, but an IT system used by HR. Who'da thunk it?
I still cannot believe the next tidbit I have for you. Honestly, it is bizarre: the man behind me, whom I shall call Chris (for that is his name) used to be a clown. A real clown! He even went to clown college - a place called Green Top Circus in Sheffield. He graduated with qualifications and everything. He is at least thirty stone and one of the least humorous men I have ever met. He has bob-length straggly greasy hair and is terrifyingly fat. Vast. I mean, like, his waist size is 'the equator'. He is really shy and odd and I can only imagine how desperately the mums of tots whose birthday it is wished they had chosen Gary Glitter instead.
I seem to be surrounded by weak-chinned and socially inept IT gamer geeks. Why do they all have such revolting skin? I counted at least four postulating boils on the back of Chris' neck this morning (I was stood behind him prodding him in the back and asking him stuff like, 'So..did you ever hit any of the kids?' The female managers all wear too-tight dresses that are supposed to look a touch Roland Mouret but instead scream 'Matalan!'
I spent two hours and eight minutes this afternoon sat in Council Chambers with approximately two hundred other minions listening to various directors of services patting themselves on the back for the astounding results of the past year. Quite a sprinkling of these VIPs were Scousers, which I find extraordinary. I worked in Liverpool for four years and I can honestly say they are the thickest race of people. They are lovely and warm and witty and know how to walk in vertiginous heels, like, 21 hours a day, but intelligence? No. Ambition? Beyond saving their wages from their job in Tanfastic Sunbeds for a fortnight in Marbella? Nah.