Office Christmas party last night! Probably the less said about it the better, in the interests of decorum! (Decorum is a whole new concept for me. I just looked it up in the dictionary and I’m seriously thinking about investing in some.) Up until yesterday I was merrily trundling along in my job under the rosy impression that everyone in the office got on swimmingly with everyone else and loved each other and loved their jobs. Of course at the end of the night my illusions were shattered as I was subjected to lengthy drunken expostulation about the embroiled resentments and petty rivalries seething just below the surface of daily office relations. Hey, malicious drunken gossip is what Christmas is all about, right? Good stuff.
Due to circumstance, this morning I was forced to come to work in the same clothes I wore out last night (heh heh! Best Christmas party EVER). Luckily Finsbury Park is a Mecca of discount merchandise, so I stopped at a couple of shops and came out with assorted beauty products and a whole new outfit, all for under twenty quid; and when I got into the office I popped into the ladies’ and effected a magical transformation from Bedraggled Party Slag into Spruce Young Professional (although I think I still have glitter on my face). I am a stealth hangover ninja!
My brain is too fuzzy to come up with further linear narrative, so instead I give you an e-mail sent yesterday by one of our top directors regarding the annual Christmas decorating competition. I think you will agree it is a work of stunning postmodernist genius.
“Unfortunately my planned video installation has been postponed due to the performance artistes involved being unavailable/otherwise engaged/detained by other Christmas duties. As a consequence the installation will not be installed until an unspecified date next year and therefore cannot be seen until the aforementioned unspecified date.
“Instead here is a picture of a plant in my garden taken a few days ago. This plant was originally not frosty then it was frosty then it was not frosty again. The picture is a representation of the frosty stage.
“Those amongst us who appreciate cutting edge conceptual art will want to vote for me. Those who don't should pretend that they do and vote for me anyway.”
All night I kept saying “not frosty, then frosty, then not frosty” and breaking into fits of uncontrollable laughter.