Thank heavens for that. A good result. I can now expunge the horrific mental image of an eccentric old dear being brassed up in the tea room by an over zealous tactical firearms unit, following a tip-off from Brian in accounts. It was very vivid. The excessively perforated ‘perp’ lying covered in hob nobs, bourbon creams and the shattered remnants of her ‘you don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps’ mug.
I’m quite upset about the hobnobs, there was no need for that. No need at all. I mean, hobnobs never hurt anybody did they?
Tbh, by about 3pm most days I’m hungry enough to step over the police cordon and take the hobnobs and bourbons off Brenda’s rapidly cooling corpse…
Where HtS and myself used to work back in the early 90s, there also worked a resident oddity. I recall his nickname was pumpkin. But his name was Dave.
Dave was (of course) a member of a shooting club and a firearms certificate holder.
One day, he decided to bring one of his handguns into work.
This is the exact model he packed with his cheese butties and bovril crisps:
A Ruger Redhawk in .44 magnum.
And at one frightening point, he pointed this hand cannon at Jane the typist. A considered aim accompanied by eerily accurate simulated gunshot sounds.
Where HtS and myself used to work back in the early 90s, there also worked a resident oddity. I recall his nickname was pumpkin. But his name was Dave…
…And not a word was said.
How times have changed eh?
Pretend you’re me, make a managerial decision: you find this, what would you do?
Narrator: [pauses] Well, I gotta tell you: I’d be very, very careful who you talk to about that, because the person who wrote that… is dangerous.
[Gets up from the chair]
Narrator: [Talking slowly] And this button-down, Oxford-cloth psycho might just snap, and then stalk from office to office with an Armalite AR-10 carbine gas-powered semi-automatic weapon, pumping round after round into colleagues and co-workers. This might be someone you’ve known for years. Someone very, very close to you.
What goes on in someone’s head which makes them say ” Do you know what, I think Biscoff deodorant will be a Christmas bestseller.”
“novelty crap sells, the more novelty the better, because either folk are broke and want everyone to chip in to fix their fridge for Christmas and frankly we’re not selling shit to them, that or they have all the actual crap they could ever want so everyone buys them stupid junk they saw in the middle isle.
So NPD, how novelty do we dare to go?”
“people like Biscoff, adults wear deodorant, how about Biscoff deodorant?”
“I like it! Jack what was that you said about edible salted caramel poo emoji? Genius!”
Now I do wish I could have got my hands on a Claymore, even a drill/inert one. They make great paperweights/bookends.
I have a pair of bookends made from a 25 pounder cartridge case fired from the one o’clock gun at Edinburgh Castle which has been cut in half. Amongst other things….😜
You get some strange gizits and leaving gifts when you (used to) work in EOD. Luckily I have ‘Free From Explosives’ certificates for them! I don’t have an inert Claymore, but I know a man who has.
Thrown discus style you could have someone’s eye out with a hobnob!
Crumbs! 😳
Thank heavens for that. A good result. I can now expunge the horrific mental image of an eccentric old dear being brassed up in the tea room by an over zealous tactical firearms unit, following a tip-off from Brian in accounts. It was very vivid. The excessively perforated ‘perp’ lying covered in hob nobs, bourbon creams and the shattered remnants of her ‘you don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps’ mug.