Mental and I love it.

Night before last, 7 and a bit hours sleep = felt like 18lbs of shit in a 5lb bag all day.

Last night, a bottle of wine and 4hrs 45mins sleep = feel much better.

What the bloody hell is that all about then eh?

EH!

You may recall that I blogged about the lack of usable toilet facilities in this office a while back, my dear and steadfast 0.5 of a reader. Well things have taken a turn for the worse and even the bizarre.

This building was built in 1963, which is quite old for an office block in central London of no architectural merit whatsoever. Buildings this ugly are normally ripped down and something shiny and full of atriums erected in its place. But no, this slab-fronted heap soldiers on (and those few of you who have seen this edifice on our staggers from pub to pub can testify to its utter munter status)

So the toilets are a bit old too. They need work and attention and of course cleaning a lot, because some people in here are bloody animals. So the ancient toilets are often shut due to leaks or shut for cleaning. This means that I often have to scour a number of floors and stairways looking for a toilet that is open.

A new and wonderful twist to this situation is the shadowy presence of “The Blocker”

This is an individual who, according to the engineers and the rumours going around, is deliberately blocking the toilets and rendering them un-usable. And as it takes our cleaners and engineers hours to do anything this can put a toilet out of action for the best part of a day.

And the arrival of “The Blocker” raises a couple of important questions.

One, what sort of person goes round deliberately blocking toilets in an office block?

And two, and the one you don’t really want to dwell on too much – How are they blocking them? Do they ram reams of toilet paper down them or are they on some special diet that enables them to produce “Brown Octobers” of such size and girth that not even the best flush that Armitage Shanks can muster can shift them?

Somebody in this office is bloody odd.

And for once its’ not me.

I have just eaten TWO "all day breakfast" sandwiches from Pret and I feel rather stuffed.

Why are there no sofas in this office!

I want a lie down.

Than sitting in a candle lit room, drinking wine and listening to AC/DC playing "Walk all over you"?

Well ok, laying in a candle lit room having all your sexual desires met by the most stunning person you have ever seen would top that, but you have to go with what you've got no?

(I is only doing posty thingeyness as its quicker than trying to read posts and respond to comments on this gas powered pc of mine)