Every silver lining has a dark cloud

Monday was lovely. Operation Spike (for what’s an evil plan without a codename?) was successful, and Sid spent 76% of every hour of the working day either perched on the porcelain or in transit between here and the local loo. That figure was arrived at with the help of Microsoft Excel and I would like to thank Bill Gates. By the way Bill, I heard you were at Live 8. Bonga. Did you get to meet Black Eyed Peas? How about that Fergie, eh? She is one hot tamale with the chilli sauce, isn’t she? I think you should go ahead and make your move. Go on. Don’t believe what they say about you being the world’s biggest supergeek, believe in yourself instead. Go Bill! Get Busy! Go Bill! It’s your birthday. But I digress.

Oh yes. Operation Spike meant our target spent so much time in the lavatory that by four he was calling the IT department asking them to wire his computer up to the loos so he can just work from there. It was a beautiful thing.

Unfortunately, today dawned. Bringing with it the first of a few of the side-effects of the medicine.

That’s right. Flatulence. I wish I had read the label on the bottle first.

I think it’s back to plan A. The man must die.