My Ocker pal Malcolm Auld, the toast of Manly, just sent me his reaction to my aside about catastrophe calculations:
Regarding where they get the £100 million figure, in my next life I’m going to come back as a “Disaster Estimator” – The expert who can immediately give the media the number of people who die in an earthquake, flood, tsunami, etc, or how much money is lost to a strike or scam – always within a few hours of the event occurring.
There has to be a living in it.
Shortly afterwards I got another message from the people who want to give me the low-down on Excelling as a New Supervisor: Essential Skills for Your Rising Stars.
It tells me about Becoming a Team Leader Famous for Strong Results. I will get the Keys to inspiring your employees to “go the extra mile” and Feedback that increases performance and accountability
I can just hear the gossip in the canteen. “That’s Drayton Bird the famous team leader over there by the coffee-making machine. He gets people to go the extra mile, with lots of feedback.”
The writer of this emetic garbage says I’m now pleased to send for your review the Conference Agenda which profiles this comprehensive program.
Why so pleased? Are you the Queen? What do you mean “profile” – it’s not a film star, you witless, illiterate twat. It’s just a ponced-up phone call.
This frightful tripe is everywhere, like congealed vomit on Soho pavements in the early morning. An awful sign of linguistic degeneracy and the end of what little civilisation we have left.
On LBC Radio yesterday a doctor was able to confirm that all the utter cock given out by the Ministry of Health as to the number of units of alcohol a man or woman can safely consume, is just that. Cock.
There has never been any researched proof of how many units can be safely consumed. The female doctor confirmed that the Ministry had simply chosen figures at random when we all know that so much depends on an individual’s metabolism and weight.
It's fairly simple really, when you start to make an arse of yourself you've reached the limit. When you fall over, you've just gone past it.