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Hoses of the Holy in the Parallel Universe

December 15, 2005

More seasonal cheer

We're now into that part of the year when office xmas dinners take place.

The best ones are the lunchtime ones.

As a long standing non-redmeat-eater I've been to enough of these events to be used to the "I'll see if the chef can do you a couple of fish fingers" options if you don't want turkey.

Less of an issue these days though, and I'm not complaining anyway. One of the features of xmas is excessive feasting on the flesh of beasts and birds: it would be churlish to resent others for doing exactly that.

I have been told "sorry sir, you're only allowed two potatoes" though, which is an issue when you can't have meat or gravy. Especially when you don't like any of the green, yellow, or orange vegetables. £15 for two potatoes? Thanks for trying.

But by far the funniest thing is all the fellas who get utterly lashed up on free wine and beer by 2.30pm (yes, I've done it as well).

You start off with a glass of wine and before you know it you've emptied all the other bottles on the table, you can't hear what anybody else is saying, and you've decided that the receptionist (either very young or very old depending on whether you work in the private sector or civil service respectively) is your best friend.

You can tell when somebody else is in this state. You see them often on the tube at this time of year. Unseasonably in shirt sleeves because they forgot to pick up their coat when they were turned out of the restaurant, carrying a bunch of flowers (they've just remembered that their wife/girlfriend is also their bestest friend, but none-the-less will justifiably squash their testicles for getting into such a state, so the man vainly hopes the flowers will atone for the extreme squiffyness and thus diminish the battering accordingly**), and they're asleep (it's only 3.15 in the afternoon).

I once saw a very respectable-looking office worker slightly zig-zag down the platform at the tube station and hock up an about-a-meter-wide lake of very wet vomit onto the floor. Splesh splash! He then continued down the platform as though he had just been temporarily possessed by a vomit monster, and got on the next train.

It was very memorable as it was composed almost entirely of green and pink food - I'd say avocado and salmon. It looked so fresh you could probably have safely scooped it up, washed it, and after a minute in the microwave, eaten it again.

** a characteristically flawed combination of male logic and the beer talking.

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