Monday, 18 June 2007

Week 9 - 'Wet floor' sign leaning against a radiator

From time to time we all feel a little wetness. This is precisely why it's so important to carry spare underwear wherever you go. You never know when unwanted moistness may strike and if it happens when you're wearing light coloured trousers you'll need to get to a hand dryer as soon as possible.


Sunday, 27 May 2007

Week 8 - Portrait of James Dean next to a curtain

Wall art is so important. Whoever you are, wherever you go, however desperate your life becomes and however low you sink, please just say 'no' to faux suede covered box canvases (especially when they come in packs of three). Together we can fight this evil.


Sunday, 20 May 2007

Week 7 - Knob on a wardrobe

There are all kinds of knobs in the world. Some of them are big. Some of them are small. Some of them are well polished. Some of them are not. See how many knobs you can spot when you get to the office tomorrow.


Saturday, 12 May 2007

Week 6 - Back of a bus seat

The joys of public transport - screaming underclass babies, other people's chewing gum, mad pensioners and the inevitable empty Lucozade bottle rolling around on the floor. If the smelly fat man with dandruff and an arse that's actually wider than the bus itself sits down next to the horrified teenage girl instead of you consider it a good journey.


Thursday, 3 May 2007

Week 5 - Wet paper towel sticking out of a bin

Guaranteed to bring back unsettling memories of primary school toilets, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the classic paper towel. It's not really a towel but it'll just have to do.


Thursday, 26 April 2007

Week 4 - Chewing gum on a computer keyboard

In times of hot desking it can be hard to stamp your identity on your workspace without the risk of staining or leaving a permanent hole. A strategically placed piece of freshly chewed gum is ideal for marking your territory whilst also providing a small touch of glamour.


Wednesday, 18 April 2007

Week 3 - Broken microwave

You sit at your desk all morning trying to find a reason to go on. The one thing you have to look forward to is lunchtime - heating up some crappy pot of tasteless pre-cooked bollocks. It's not much, but it's just enough to keep you from a repeat prescription of anti-depressants for one more day. But now those days are gone, because store me in a cool dry place and spank my ass with a cheap plastic fork if some bastard hasn't shafted the only functioning microwave in the building.
Screw you all - I'm going home.