Just a quick note. David came in to work today and told me about his knee thing. It was cancelled because they can't operate on a grazed area in case it gets infected, so he'll be having it in two weeks instead. They've given him a knee support that he says helps a lot, which is great. The funny thing is that it rustles like a nappy because of the padding and the metal parts squeaks when he walks. Bit of WD40 needed methinks! My new name for him is the '6 million dollar man', except they spent about £23 instead. Today David made me look like a tit in front of some Nigerians. That is all.

David's been gone for 2 working days, and things have been quiet, organized, and relatively stress free. In all honesty I've been bored, but it's nothing compared to the boredom that man spills onto me every day of my working life. I've been able to surf the web with no fear of him peering over my shoulder to bore me with some loosely-related story that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I've actually been doing more work, because everything is where I know it is and I havn't got him barking at me about stuff I don't need to know every five minutes. I also havn't had a single cup of disgusting tea. I like tea, just not the brew they throw together there; the milk gets left out all bloody day and they think that's noemal. No, it isn't.

Anyway, after those two days of silence, Dave's back tomorrow. Yep, he's back. Apparently he grazed his knee last week and they can't operate on his knee if the skin isn't clean, so they've cancelled his operation. Is that not the shittest excuse to not operate you've ever heard?! I mean, you're going to cut it up, so what difference does a graze make? Methinks a surgeon wanted the afternoon off and couldn't think up a decent excuse. For shame.

So yes, he's back tomorrow. Just as I was getting used to doing the work myself. Just as I was feeling like I do something worthwhile every day. Seriously, if his farts are half as bad as they were last week I'm walkin'. It was like chenobyl in that office, I kid you not.

So bad news for me, but good news for you, the Dit-reading public. Watch this space....

Long time no blog I know, but by way of apology here's a nice one for you to read at home/work/wherever when you next get the lust for David-related babble. Some hilarity recently, which I will document now.

Few days ago Dave asked me to do some paperwork for our audit, which was over a week away. So, I did a bit, put it to one side, did a bit more, put it to one side, etc. Couple of days later after I'd been off sick for a day he says to me, "Listen Matt, you don't have to work here if you don't want to." Stunned, I just laughed and asked him what he was on about. "I asked you to do that paperwork days ago and it still isn't done, so I did it yesterday". The whinging bitch then went on to harrass me about checking my emails often etc, despite the fact that he is the laziest guy I've ever worked with who dodges work more efficiently than Garfield, and he's proportionally tubbier than the orange cat too. Anyway, I then proceeded to do all of the remaining paperwork needed for our audit in the space of a morning, and so had nothing to do for the 3 days afterwards. During the audit it then transpired that he hadn't actually done that work properly at all, and it was one of the few things we got pulled up on.

So, with this out of the way, David casually mentioned a few days ago that he's having an operation on his knee on Monday. After boring me with the technicalities he then informed me that he'll be off work for; (wait for it); 7 WEEKS!!! So that means he'll have to teach me the ropes of his half of the job, which isn't a problem because we can do that on Thursday and Friday. However, ladies and gents, as I type this David is currently on his 3 hour dentist visit/lunch break, and tomorrow he has decided to take the day off too. For a guy who was suggesting that I take the piss, he certainly is a cunt.

OH, and as if all that wasn't enough, his farts are consistant not only in their regularity, but also in the fact that they bloody stink. They never used to smell, but they're terrible now; I often walk into the office and have to breathe through my mouth in order to keep myself from gagging. The thought of the huge gut, the tempermental sphincter, and the frankly terrible diet will form my memory of David throughout his 7 week absense.

I'll close by letting you know that our BT internet went down the other day, and Dave phoned the BT helpdesk. As I ran around doing the stuff he was relaying from the advisor, he took an opportunity of silence to spin a dit to the unfortunate call centre operator. £4 an hour to listen to Naval stories that confuse you? No thanks.