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Friday 3 September 2010

What's sauce for the goose...

'Way back in the 1990s, and being the proud new father, I took the baby Scaryduckling into work to say hello to my colleagues.

I sat her down on the console in the studio so she could watch the TV screens and blinking lights, but soon her look of awe changed into a completely different expression altogether.

Her face screwed up into a little ball, and it became apparant that the little lady was doing a poo on tens of thousands of pounds worth of very expensive gear, much to the amusement of my workmates.

No damage done, but I whisked the smelly little parcel away and she never went into my place of work EVER AGAIN.

And now, fifteen years on, my little baby has grown into a confident young woman starting off in her first paying job in a shop in Weymouth.

But should I walk in there and done a poo of the counter, instead of the hearty laughter of her colleagues, I'd almost certainly end up with an ASBO.

Where - I ask - is the justice?'



Thanks(?) to ScaryDuck for that story.

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