Rachel and I have taken to teasing next door's interns. There are loads of them in there and I swear they are breeding like rabbits. I don't think the MP next door actually has any paid staff unless you count the grumpy, elderly woman who I see from time to time in the hallway. For a while I honestly thought someone had brought their granny in for a visit and then set her free to wander as she pleases. I had images of coaxing her back to the reception desk with a bag of knitting and a hot water bottle. Wouldn't be the first time...
Anyway back to the interns. Rachel has been here long enough now that she can pull off that slightly patronising yet confused tone that so many staffers tend to use. She really is coming along nicely!
Is it wrong to take a couple of young eager beavers down to the car park beneath the Westminster Palace and leave them there in the dark with the instruction to not come back up untill they've checked all six levels for Simon Hughes' yellow taxi? I may have also told them that the rifle range was down there somewhere. I wonder if the MP next door noticed the difference in his office this afternoon.
I arrived back in the office to find my boss speaking sternly down the phone. "I've made this phone call several times now and I find it almost insulting that my suggestions are not being taken onboard! I demand to have the direct line to the Heinz CEO!"
"Oh not again. Give me the phone!" Cue wrestling for the handset.
"No! I'll call Cindy McCain if I have to!"
"Give me the...PHONE!" I got the phone off him and hung up. "How many times have I told you, she never worked for Heinz and you have to STOP calling up their customer service number and complaining about carrots chunks."
I don't get paid enough for this.