Heaven is a place on earth?
In my very first 'proper' job, if you can count filing the microfiche a 'proper' job, we had an internal postman who'd bring round, well, the post, obviously. It seems this job was too taxing for him, however, and he hired an assistant. Now, I try not to judge people on appearances, but this guy was very clearly an E-freak. And as gay as a camp christmas. He's flounce aroudn the office, always chewing something, always staring slightly off into the distance with his bleached 'Candy flip' hair style and skin tight Breton tops or his billowing blousy shirt and not quite Daisy Duke shorts. Frankly he was a breath of fresh air in an office of stuffy academic types or bored straight out of Uni-ers like me.

I'm still not entirely sure of the details of what happened to him, but one Tuesday morning, he zipped round the office in his usual manner, dropping off the post, flirting ironically with the grannies and the...well...likes of me, actually...and going on his way. But then it all went wrong and somewhere between pushing his post bag into the Mezzanine lift (not a euphamism) and reaching the fifth floor, he had a spectacular breakdown and was found in the lift, naked, curled up clutching his trolley (again, not a euphamism) repeatedly mumbling 'I want to go to heaven, I want to go to heaven, I want to go to heaven'.


Poor guy.

And frustrating too, because nobody thought to clarify if he meant 'where God lives' or the gay nightclub.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Wed 27 Jul 2011, 16:49, 3 replies)

I used to go to Heaven in the early 90's and that seems like a perfectly understandable reaction to a Tuesday morning at work

( broadsword w⚓, Wed 27 Jul 2011, 17:27, closed)

Hahahaha
I went to Heaven once with a girl I was sort of seeing, as she wanted to pick up chicks.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 27 Jul 2011, 17:33, closed)

I used to go on Thursdays which was a rave-y night
that's my excuse anyway
( broadsword w⚓, Wed 27 Jul 2011, 17:36, closed)