Only 14 hours from Bristol
I used to work for a right git - egomaniac micromanaging bullying tit. 'Team building pep talks' involved frothing rants and throwing chairs around the room. With the subtle aid of complete lies and false accounting he sold the company to a major corporation. A week before we were due to hand over to the new owners he tried to sack me (out of sheer spite) for the apparently heinous act of switching off the horrible soul leeching fluorescent strip lights and switching on the desk lamps so we could all see our screens - which is why we had them. After he had finished ranting at me I shouted straight back that "there were two other directors and if he wanted to sack me he would have to go through proper disciplinary procedures with them first". Then went back to my desk (shaking) as he followed me bellowing, "Get out of my building". It wasn't his building.

Because he was a nutter, he was breezily chatting away a few days later as though nothing had happened - banging on about his 'golden handshake' arrangement which in reality was more of a 'copper fuckoff' – the new owners wanted his staff not him. He knew he was set to lose 'The Jag' and was sitting on the edge of my desk David Brent style asking me what kind of 4x4 to buy "because he fancied a jet ski and needed something to tow ‘the fucker’ with" because i "knew about motors".

Immediately I suggested a Vauxhall Frontera Sport - mainly because I knew they were utterly shit. They were just out and had some terrible reviews - ugly, unpleasant to drive and with similar levels of reliability as a nuclear reactor staffed by squirrels.

So he bought one and decided to drive it from Glasgow to Bristol with some dizzy bint from the office he was hoping to bang on some entirely unnecessary ‘business trip’. Naturally, as soon as he tried to drive back, it promptly broke down. He took it to a garage who spotted it was a water pump problem and would have to be ‘done on warranty’ at a main dealers as it was both costly and involved specialist parts - main dealers, who were all shut. He could drive it, but was warned it would conk out every time he went over 40 mph.

It took the fat prick about 14 hours to drive through the night, all the way back from Bristol, complete with now sullen dizzy bint who had spurned his advances and was by now also aware he was a fat prick.

I got offered a much better job shortly afterwards. On the day I left I made sure everyone got to hear about his Bristol odyssey and how I had duped him into lashing out 15 grand or more an a pile of bolts, and made damn sure that he knew i had told them.

Fat prick.


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( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 22 May 2008, 16:28, 2 replies)

"..similar levels of reliability as a nuclear reactor staffed by squirrels."
That in itself deserved a click! Very good!
(Taunting Lunatics Belming at you since, Thu 22 May 2008, 17:31, closed)

Copper Fuckoff
I liked that so clicked accordingly! Brilliant!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Tue 27 May 2008, 14:08, closed)