From my desk I can see eight, which is quite horrific considering there are only about two dozen people in this (big) room. I’m not talking slightly chubby here either, I’m talking morbidly obese, wheeze as they stand up to get to a vending machine, porky type fuckers here.
It looks like a lorry load of fucking weebles crashed into the building…
Do you know why this is? I’ll fucking tell you why…
So far this morning we’ve already had a sandwich run, a bacon sandwich run, some cakes brought in and there is a chip shop run, a McDonald’s run and a Subway run set up for lunchtime.
This is all apparently OK because it’s Friday today which is a special day, and today we can stuff ourselves in plain sight (despite the fact that it looks like a pack of fucking pigs at a trough all bastard day) and not have to hide in cupboards to eat family sized bags of Doritos in about four fucking fistfuls like on "normal" days.
And yet, they still have the sheer bloody gall to ask me how I stay in shape despite being on the down side of thirty. Well, let me see, perhaps it’s because I don’t look like Captain Caveman waving a turkey drumstick around all day. Or that I have to occasionally buy new shoes because I actually walk around in mine. Or that I don’t drink the equivalent of a pint of pork fat each day. It could be any of those couldn’t it?
My God, you make me sick you pack of obese fucking hyenas…
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