the phantom bomber
At the same place as mentioned in my 'Only 14 hours from Bristol' post, to say the employees were not a happy bunch would be like saying Peter Sutcliffe was a bit stabby. Staff turnover was high. Bitter resentment burned white hot behind the glazed eyes of the drones - we spent a lot of money of leaving cakes.

Lots of threats were made but when the time came most were just happy to be out of it.

One particularly hot summer a few brave tunnelers made it to Switzerland in rapid succession. After the drinks and farewells were old news, an increasingly ripe odour became apparent. To be able to detect a smell does not immediately mean you can pinpoint its origin. After a week or so of sticky hot summer with no air-con it became pretty intolerable but try as we might we could not find the source.

One fine day a week or so later I opened a little used cupboard - the smell just about knocked me over.

There, sitting in an open plastic carrier bag was a large purifying human turd. I think it was the wriggling maggots that made me retch.

I still saw the funny side though - and we never did find out who the phantom bomber was.


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( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 23 May 2008, 10:18, Reply)