The gullibility of a hungover 25 year old
Not long after I'd got my first, long overdue promotion (having worked for the DSS for 5 years up to that point as a 'technical operative', i.e. dogsbody), my old colleagues deceided to have one of their semi-regular nights out after payday.

Never one to shirk my duties towards alcomahol, and despite the fact that I was now working some 50 miles away, I jumped at the chance to have a bit of a catch up with my much-missed former workmates. "I've got a long drive, though, so i'll just have a couple".

Anyone that knows me will testify that "just a couple" is a physical impossibility for me, once I get the taste.

And thus it was. The night came, my former colleagues and I drank and made merry. I had considerably more than "a couple" and went home to bed that night drunk and happy.

However, despite taking a pint of water to bed with me, I was so utterly zonked out that not a drop passed my lips. The alarm went off at its customary 6am, and I awoke feeling like shit. Groaning quietly so as not to wake the wife up, I slid into my dressing gown, went to the kitchen and made myself a strong coffee. Usually, once I'm vertical and pumped full of caffeine, I pull round pretty sharpish.

Not this morning. No. A shower should fix it. Wobbling slightly as I got into the shower, I stood and let the hot water cascade over me for about 10 minutes. Is that better?

Is it fuck.

Conceding defeat I made the missus a brew and informed her that the car was all hers as there was no way I was risking driving to work. At 8:30am I rang the office and informed them that I wouldn't be in that day as I'd picked up a bug. Then I lay down on the couch and felt sorry for myself.

At about 11am the phone rang. I picked it up and mumbled "Hello?"

"Ah, hello der" came a chirpy Irish sounding voice, "Is dat DG?"

"Er, yes it is".

"Dat's grand. Oim Chris O'Donnell, ringin from da staff welfare service. We had a report dat you'd rang in sick today, and we were just ringin to check if everyting was alroight dere?"

Shit. "Er, yes, I just picked up a bit of a bug is all, I'll be fine tomorrow", I lied profusely. Shithitshit.

"Ah, it's just dat we heard dere had bin a bit of do on last noight, and we wondered if you'd maybes had a bad point or sumting?"

"Er, what?" Shitshitshitshitshit.

"A bit of a do. You know, a few points".

"Er, who did you say you were again?", the name creeping through my skull in some vague recollection.

"Chris O'Donnell from da staff welfare servicepppffffffthahahahahahahahahahaha".

Pause.

"Sorry mate, couldn't resist. It's me. I rang your office and they said you'd called in sick, so I put two and two together..."

Brian Miller, you utter cunt. I still cringe.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 22 Aug 2008, 11:08, 1 reply)

clicks
*Grins*
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 22 Aug 2008, 11:37, closed)