Tuesday, 2 December 2008
The Guinea Pigs Have Taken Over The Bank
Of course, as mature as I may pretend to be I am not totally averse to having fun at work sometimes.
One of my more elaborate plots involved someone who had annoyed me considerably - and no, he was not a Senior Officer. Call him Paul.
We had had a little bout of small practical jokes on each other, ending with him doing the traditional "fingerprint ink on the hat band" routine on me.
All very funny.
In retaliation, I started to collect at any opportunity the paper discs, discarded from hole punches - the actual 'holes' you punch out of the paper.
Once I had the correct amount (one 'C' size evidence bag for those interested) I waited in lair for my adversary.
Unfortunately I had to wait a while, as we work in different departments. However, whilst chatting to the garage hand in the yard of the nick one day, who should I see drive up but my sworn enemy.
Paul parked his response vehicle, and wondered in the direction of the canteen.
I approached the car, and with care, tipped the small paper hole punch discs (do they have a name?) into the heating vents of the car.
I then positioned the vents to face towards him, and put all of the fans on to maximum so that when he put the key in the ignition and started the engine they would burst into life.
I sat myself down with some paperwork, with a view of his car. I was prepared to wait. Then the radio crackled into life: "Any unit available to run the Borough Commander from Bravo X-ray to the council offices at about half eleven, over?"
A pause. Not a popular job.
"Bravo X-ray from Bravo Zulu Two One, I'll run him over when I've finished refs."
"Two-One, that's much appreciated. Bravo X-ray out."
I recognised Paul's voice immediately.
The temptation to let the mini explosion happen to Paul AND the Borough Commander was huge, but I didn't like to think of Paul having to explain the situation to any Senior Officer.
I trotted up to the canteen - "Paul, can I borrow your keys? Just need to move your car."
Back down to the yard. The garage hand came out of his office grinning. "You'll be wanting this then?" He handed me the vacuum cleaner.
The only way to get rid of the eyelets was to flush them out, so I started the car, and experienced the softest explosion known to man kind. It was a little like being in a warm snow storm, as the paper discs fluttered around me.
For a minute, all was peace.
Then I set to work with the vacuum cleaner.
It took me my whole bloody refs break.
You'll be relieved to know I have a plan B though. Glitter. He'll never get that off...