Snores, Dave and Girly Porn

Wednesday morning started with a text from the boss asking me to pick up goats cheese, cigarettes and a spork. That alone was annoying – add in the fact that he'd sent it at 5.05am and I was seething before I could even remember whose bed I was in.

I've been meaning to call the bosses wife and try to subtly hint that she should take him to the doctors to get his breathing sorted out. I know it's pretty standard for older men to breath out of their nose like it's the only orifice on their bodies but not like this. At one point I thought he had actually fallen asleep at his desk. I turned, expecting to find him dribbling on his House Magazine but he was, in fact, wide-eyed and reading – with a curling, wobbling, wet sound rolling from both nostrils. How, in the name of God can you sit there making that sort of noise and not be aware of it??

I'm limited to what I can directly say to him, other than “Are you all right, you appear to be choking?” or perhaps “Would you like a tissue? I've just bought this industrial size box and I insist you take the whole thing!”

By close of business Wednesday, the new PPB had been put out. Enjoy!

I'm going to assume that this was filmed in his parliamentary office rather than his Downing Street office because of the dark work and lack of Ikea crap. I personally hate these sort of clips because of the blatant staging.

The unnecessary desk lamp on the end of a long conference table. The two mobiles and pen next to his right arm despite being left handed. The boring tie that doesn't attempt to be any colour for fear of meaning something it shouldn't. The orange make up and the files balanced, in view, rather than filing the red box all scream FAKE.

Tom mentioned that he liked the feel of it; it was warm and comforting according to him. I pointed out that this was purely down to the soft lighting which wasn't dissimilar to that used in the sort of pornography normally aimed at women. You know the sort – plot, piano music and men with long hair. It's all tender romance with the jiggly bits hidden behind a smoky lenses and candle light.

I can't comment on what was said in the PPB because I watched it with the sound down just as a member of the public would. Sue me.
Toodles x

Jesus, Paperclips and My Damn Empty Purse!

I want to get rid of the new intern. Scrap that, I need to get rid of him! Tom has been with us for a few weeks and because he's familiar with the blog, it's been difficult blogging about what happens in the office in case he picks up on it. I'm obviously going to have to kill him. Or upset him so much that he leaves. I don't think that will be too difficult. On his first day I asked him what his hobbies were, he listed sports, politics and following Christ. That is a real conversation killer, I can tell you. Tell Tom you think Obama is going to win the US election and watch him go a funny shade of repressed purple. American Conservatives remain a complete mystery to me.

"I like your bowtie, Tom. Bowties are cool!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"O...kay." Mental note to self, Tom doesn't get popular culture. "So plans for the weekend - you're a young man in the prime of his life, you must have a packed diary with beers, tits, sports and more beer. Right?"

Nothing but an uncomfortable silence and judgemental stare. It was just like my first attempt at drunken pole dancing all over again.

We're coming to that time again when everyone gets in as much spending and IPSA claims as possible before the end of the financial year. Last week I ordered 100 pink paper clips. I didn't need them, I already had a 500 in my desk drawer but they're not pink so morally I win.

On a completely different subject which my dear readers may or may have not been aware of - I am now writing a monthly column for Total Politics magazine. My most recent article can be found here and I do encourage you all to read and comment. Even if it's just abuse, feedback is good. Who knows how long they'll be willing to use ink on the garbled craziness I cobble together so get it while you can!

And before anyone goes looking at the register of interests, I am not getting paid for these articles so don't waste your time, darlings!

Toodles x

"No! I'll call Cindy McCain if I have to!"

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.

Goodnight x

PICT, Interns and The Ugly Game

The office was an uncomfortable place to be today for several reasons. Firstly there was the sodding rugby and my male colleagues were arguing about who were the better team.

I know that disliking the rugby and the cricket and horse racing and all other sports makes me a bad Tory. I don't care, not a bit. There are far more rewarding ways to get out of breath and sweaty, thank you very much. That grown men threw pens, box files and eventually a tea cup at each other has put me off even more.

Secondly there was the intern issue. The boss pulled me to one side and asked if we were paying Rachel at all. His ‘hands off’ approach is a bloody nuisance sometimes. I reminded him that we had started paying her daily travel about a week ago and I occasionally brought her lunch if I had felt that I had been particularly mean to her. This happens quite a lot.

I don't mind paying interns but I do hate the paperwork. It's just another form to fill in and send off to IPSA which they then process and use to magically suck the life from the poor soul who filled it in. I know this to be true and as such, have had a priest in to bless the IPSA filing cabinet.

According to the tech guys in PICT (Parliamentary Information Communication and Technology) one of the severs went down and this resulted in a number of MPs not getting their emails. So if you emailed an MP on Tuesday and thought 'that arsehole hasn't got back to me and s/he has a Blackberry!' then it will because of that. Possibly... 

The boss made reference to two MPs getting a bit touchy-feely in the chamber at the start of the week but he wouldn't say who it was. If any dear readers know, please do tell.

Had an email from a constituent asking why their local supermarket had put 1p on their petrol prices last week. Our response was mainly made up of the supermarket's customer service contact details and a 'feel free to ask them yourselves.' People are getting lazier, I swear.