Why I was late"On the way to the station, I got hit by a bat, it almost took my head clean off. Then the machine would not accept my ticket and the guy at the gate didn't think I looked like the photo on my travel card. So I had to go home and get my passport.
Then the train was 45 minutes late to the station because of the dangerous badger threat at Carpenters Park.
When I was on the train it took and hour and a half to get past the biscuit factory because the driver was really fat.
Then there was a delay stopping at the station because the train in front had heard we were coming and decided to play a practical joke with a rubber shoe on the track.
That is why I couldn't get here on time today."
What's your best excuse?
(
chthonic, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:36)
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Long, but true story of self defenstrationI woke up one Friday morning and knew that I had plenty of flexi-time saved up so I just had to get to work by 9am so I could leave early and go to the pub. I was tired but had plenty of time in hand.
I discovered that whilst I could turn the handle of my bedroom door, it would not open. I was alone in the house and the door did not have a lock. I sat on the bed to wait for the fug of sleep to clear and then had another try.
Still would not open. I really needed the loo by this time so I had to formulate a plan. I had no phone, no visitors expected and nothing of much use - I had my house keys, a tie clip and my dressing gown. A MacGuyver like plan crystallised in my sleep fuddled, wee-needing brain...
I would use the serated edge of my backdoor key to saw through the wood around the lock. I should be out of my prison by Saturday afternoon! It set to with vigour, trying to ignore the pain in my bladder.
Stupid bloody idea. After 2 minutes I'd hardly made a dent in the door and bent my key. By this time, my head was starting to clear and a real plan formed.
I would jump out of the window! So, I wrapped my dressing gown tightly around my self, opened the 2nd storey window as wide as it would go and (clutching my house keys) jumped down onto the front lawn.
Of course, my dressing gown flew upwards and I exposed myself to the whole street, left two deep footprints in the lawn - but I was free and had not yet wet myself!
I went round to the backdoor to let myself in the house and discovered that my key was still bent. I had to get a brick from the garden to flatten it out before gaining entry. Once inside, the toilet was my first port of call, then I examined the bedroom door from the other side.
It would open fine from outside, but inside the handle turned without moving the catch. Should be easy to fix with the right tools, but I'd better get to work, I thought.
I left the door open and went to close the window. As I stepped into the centre of the room, a gust of wind blew through the open window and slammed the door shut. Gah! Trapped again.
With a weary sigh, I jumped out of the window for the second time that morning.
I got to work two hours late and emailed the story to my boss, who forwarded it around the company.
(, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 11:30, Reply)
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