Pregnant

It has been a traumatic few weeks. I hardly know whether to feel relieved or distraught. Of course it is a relief that Susan's recent distraction is not the result of a malignant brain tumour or suchlike. Susan told me the news the week before last, it is only now that I can bring myself to record it. 'Sit down,' Susan said as I came in from work, 'I've got news.' At first I continued my inspection of the fridge contents. Susan is always requesting that I be seated to here the news that a Lakeland store is coming, or that there is a closing down sale somewhere. I should have guessed the news from the state of the iced finger that Susan had been eating. 'I'm pregnant,' she said, smiling weakly. I think deep down I had suspected as much but had preferred the state of happy ignorance. And until that moment my suspicion had lay vaguely in the future. Now it is sitting firmly in front of me. What are we to do?

Sexual Divide

Natasha has caused quite a sexual divide amongst the office crew. Frances and Mrs C have been vying with each other for the position of dominant female, and although Frances is be no means unattractive, she is clearly threatened by Natasha's looks. All of  the guys have been pawing the carpet like rampant stallions on heat, with of course the exception of Crazy Horse who is management and therefore not permitted to lower his guard and express his true nature. Colin says that Natasha c ould, 'lap dance the cock off a giant panda,' whatever that means. While Bishop is unable to express anything other than a pant whenever Natasha is within ten feet of him. Lately he has been dousing himself even more liberally than usual with the hideous concortion he calls aftershave, he reeks like a bargain basement perfume department most mornings. I suppose it is an improvement on his natural aroma; unscented he exudes a faint waft of pond. No good will come of his obsession with Natasha.