Spurious Gossip

But if I live by the sword, surely I must die by it too.

Between my office and the Presidents office is a window. There has been an occasion when two couples have been at it in tandem in both.

They always clean up afterwards, though the safe handle can occasionally be sticky.

I would love to give office gossip but I'm not convinced someone else in the office wouldn't find it.

::set up for the inevitable joke::

a: Enter office co-worker [v] excitedly.
[v]: Did you here about [u]? ([u] and [v] do not get on: not least because [u] = overbearing ubercow from hades...) She had to go to hospital! She's having something removed... mark s: How do you know? Oh — because you put it there?
Discussion veers off unsypathetically towards a website once mentioned in the Fortean Times, which features hospital x- rays — sadly mostly fake - of foax with a wide variety of objects stuck up their bums: plus the urban-myth excuse they give in casualty — "yes, someone foned on my mobile when I was in the bath, and I slipped as I got out to answer it and..."
Discussion then veers *back* to [u] and her boyf [w], unlike [u] widely loved in this same org: what = nature of their v.adoring relationship? Who is top? Who is bottom? Who sticks the vibrator-tone nokia up whom?

b: [y] is org's Head of Human Resources, a titanically fat, unpleasant and damaged person (what is it with HR? Who will defend HR?). Only office in building where post- runners have ALWAYS to knock, to give [y] time to hide biscuits or cake or other snack. Org used to have a nice cafe, but contracted chef moved on — a hard spot to make a decent profit — and it is [y]'s so far failed job to find a successor. Closest so far, a few months back: the contract HAD BEEN SIGNED, and all in the org were invited to a grate freebie tasting, the day before the cafe reopened officially. New chef worked in kitchen day and night for three days, then — with [y]'s unwelcome help — started laying out the treats. For every two nibbles [y] set out, one went into mouth rather than plate. The org gathered, and gannetted (I was away, so can pass no comment on quality...). Later in the day, [y] was leaving for a meeting elsewhere in London: left [looking somewhat pasty, confided lad at front desk], only to return, white and sweating, to rush in toilet and vomit. Cafe contract torn up: new chef never seen again, blamed for obvious food poisoning. EXCEPT: *only* [y] was ill, having porked out like a hog with no shame. True version: the new chef was so appalled at behaviour of who he was working for (greed, bullying, general nazi-ness: [y] = most horrible person I have ever met *in* person) he quit of his own accord. Food poisoning story = official cover-up = total lie.

Friend of a friend does lunch with Lord [z] two months ago, re optioning of one of Lord [z]'s terrible terrible novels, for a movie. In the course, apropos nothing in particular, Lord [z] notes that there are two poisons you can murder someone with which are ABSOLUTELY UNTRACEABLE.

By the way, who thinks Archer will get off, despite everything, thanks to sudden sympathy vote re his mum? Weird about that Monica Coughlan, wasn't it?

If Archer gets off maybe he'll achieve the critical mass in the Smug! department and explode. I live in hope, anyway.

coworker c saw coworker l's coochie.

they were all going out on the boss' boat and l said "oh is it going to be cold on the water maybe i should wear some tights." as she was hiking them up her short skirt billowed and c saw all of her womanliness

wasn't she wearing undies either??? what a daredevil!