Today my apple was an office cleaner called Fusty Bungoes. Her hobbies included throwing all the important things on my desk onto the floor, not doing any other form of cleaning and cage fighting. Her last words were, “I come in your office every morning and I think – wow, this needs a vacuum and that desk is in dire need of a good dusting, but then I think, crikey – it’s four o’clock in the morning and I decide to just throw all your stuff on the floor and go home.” I do sympathise with how difficult it must be finding a time when I’m not actually at work, but I can’t help that feel if all she’s going to do is put my documents on the floor then I can do that myself. She tasted like Peach Snaps with a dash of mouldy bung hole.

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