So anyway.

Yesterday, a lot of people from work went on a prearranged night out which I gratefully baled: there's barely anyone at the place I don't get on with (beneath senior management level anyway, but that's usually a given) but I'm sure it'll chime with a lot of you when I say that sometimes it's quite handy being a non-drinker who lives 30 miles from work.

Anyway: har parce midnight and my works phone rings. This is normal, my name begins with A, I get rung up A LOT by pissheads who've sat on their moby. But this one goes to voicemail. So I picked up the phone and rang 901 so as to clear the 4-minute message that's usually left - a lot of rustling, usually, and the muffled sound of someone ordering a kebab - but this time there's a message. It's one of the lads, sounding drunkenly miserable, saying "I love you". Not "Yahhh my bess mate I faggin lav you you t**t", which would've been much less disturbing.

Not really sure what to make of it. Bloke in question is a happily-married dad. I don't *think* he's a closet botter and I don't think any less of him if he is (unless he makes a habit of phoning me after midnight anyway).

Monday might be a bit awkward.

Posted By: Sugbad The Bad, May 30, 12:03:00