I’d like to file an official complaint against my co-worker, Philip Hughes (or, as per the office memo he sent around last month, he may be in your files as Spiderman Hughes).
As his peer I am unable to discipline him or censor his behaviour, but have noted down incidents that I believe should be on record.
Firstly, I am concerned about Philip’s work. He doesn’t seem to do much, often given to the fact that he goes to the toilet in the morning and leaves a cardboard cut-out of Dustin Hoffman at his desk until home time. Only last week I asked him to hand in the Alcott Files and instead he submitted the sign from the toilets asking people not to stand on the toilet seats. His excuse that it must have fallen into his notes was patchy considering there were no other notes, the sign had been laminated and super-glued to the tile wall, and there was still a tile attached.
He also took two weeks of sick leave when his shoulder ‘just fell out’ of its socket, as well as sick leave for a coma, bereavement leave for his dead wife followed by paternity leave for his pregnant wife, and then leave to deal with charges of gay prostitution. I was assigned all his work over these periods, and when I expressed concern about the situation he cut off a chunk of my hair and named me to the police as the pimp of a large prostitution ring.
Philip’s behaviour is affecting the morale of the office in general- for example, he looked after the office pet iguana last weekend, and when he returned on Monday, Rocky was a rock on a leash with a rudimentary iguana drawn on it and a shoelace tail sticky-taped to the face end. Also last month he gave a half-empty packet of staples and a cigarette butt to the collection for Jenny’s birthday present. This was unsuitable as we were collecting cash for a voucher, and also as Jenny is in office supplies and had provided Philip with the full staple packet twenty minutes earlier.
He is unkind to others, like on Tuesday when he told Glen that Glen’s parents had just died in a house fire so he could have Glen’s sandwich. He will only stop throwing socks at ‘Dobby’ (short-statured Peter) on the days he has a prostitute come to the office looking to service Tyrion Lannister (short-statured Peter). Peter’s marriage has broken down as a result and he has resorted to living in the building’s ventilation system.
I thought perhaps Philip was coming good and trying to be nicer this morning when he offered to make me a Cup-a-Soup from the kitchen to sooth my sore throat, but when he came back with a cup-o-urine and cut off another chunk of my hair I began to doubt his intentions.
I had a meeting with my supervisor to discuss Philip’s behaviour, which would have been very productive if it hadn’t just been Philip in Groucho Marx glasses (an ill-begotten disguise, for while my supervisor does indeed have a moustache, she does not wear glasses).
I think at the very least a mediation session is in order, or perhaps Philip should be let go or sent to jail. In case further evidence is needed, I have attached photos of the office Christmas party showing a) Philip having sex with the office kettle, and b) Philip forcibly riding Donkey (short-statured Peter).
Dear Steven and Janet,
While I would like to thank you for the hospitality you extended to me over the last three months by having me to your house in Maine, I do have some feedback on guest services.
I don’t want you to think that I am ungrateful or racist, but I felt somewhat unwelcome at times and I think you could work on that. For example on my second weekend there I was feeling very sensitive about my conjunctivitis and didn’t appreciate being called ‘Conjuncty’ for the rest of my stay. The asbestos you had installed in my room also sent me some mixed messages.
Secondly, you should really focus more on activities your guest would enjoy- no one played Monopoly with me the whole time so I always had to play with my childhood friend, Walter Tatlock, who is a bucket. And no guest should have to do the amount of cleaning you made me do. You had me scrubbing vomit stains off surfaces on no fewer than nine occasions, after I’d already had a hell of a time getting them there. Thank God you never opened the pool room freezer or I would’ve had to start asking for a cleaner’s salary. Sheesh.
Also if I were you I would not leave my private business lying around for guests to see my dirty laundry- the softly pornographic pictures of Janet I stumbled across while accidentally rifling through your safe should not be so easily accessible. For example, I am keeping them on my person at all times so they are never unattended.
Lastly, it would have been nice to receive a goodbye present of higher quality than just the shit drawing Chlorine gave to me. She made me look like I have sausage hands, her colouring in was lacklustre and unrealistic, and she didn’t even bother to spell her own name right. No effort, she left out three whole letters.
You should really do something about her attitude, just because she has a full set of shoes it doesn’t mean she’s better than me. A short sharp side kick to the head should settle her right down, and also hopefully knock some personality into her because right now she’s as interesting as a box of hair.
Anyway, just some things to work on over the next week as I am coming back on Tuesday. I would appreciate swapping rooms with Chlorine, she has younger lungs.
See you then,
It’s your patient Tod Glerg here. Don’t panic I don’t have lice again, this time I am writing for some advice from one man with a medical degree to another with a tramp stamp and access to free porn.
I need some professional assistance from you after someone mistook me for a medical practitioner the other day while I was borrowing all the stationary from my other doctor’s office.
I went with it as I had some time before my DragonBallZ match, but ran into a little hitch in the afternoon whilst seeing my sixth patient.
This patient presented with some chest pains when I sat on her, but the rectal exam revealed a normal sized thyroid, so I’m not concerned there.
It was between when I told her she was dying and had a very large peepee for a woman and when I realised her x-ray was the back of a cereal box that things got a bit iffy- she asked me why my medical certificate was written in green crayon on the side of a Kleenex box.
I managed to get her into the mop cupboard without much trouble, but was wondering whether you might send me a photocopy of your medical certificate so I can use that. In your own time. But quite quickly. DW it’s not negligent, I have been playing a lot of Operation and only hit the sides like 6 or 10 times a go and most of the pieces I haven’t even swallowed yet.
Also do you have any pamphlets I can give to my flock, I only have one for vaginal thrush which is unsatisfactory as it has been leaving my male patients confused and shaky and they always ask for their pants and wallets back. And they all have lice now from somewhere.
Put 5 bucks in the envelope too please I am low on M&Ms and I have a duty to medicate my patients and the only pharmacist I know is 8 and his Mum has confiscated his bike.
My name is Ross and I joined Fitness First three weeks ago when my previous exercise regime of high kicks failed to give me my perfect beach bod.
I have enjoyed the use of your facilities very much, particularly the safety conscious trainer who beeps whenever I move backwards and the great 80’s hits, but I am disappointed to report a theft from your premises.
The incident occurred on Thursday- I remember clearly as I had been to the pre-natal Zumba class where everyone kept calling me Rick and telling me to leave. After class, I returned to the men’s locker rooms to find that my gym bag was missing. It is a newly purchased limited-edition green Safeway bag, which not only had my formal crocs in it, but also my good black pants. (This was not ideal as I had a job interview straight after my workout and so was forced to wear my black gym shorts and colour in the rest of my legs. Luckily reception had a red pen so I could include the stripes down the side or it would have looked unrealistic.)
I checked in lost property but only found a men’s g-string. After changing into it, I spoke to the woman at reception- I think her name is Janine; she was the one who looked, as they say, as though she had been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say “when”. At any rate, she was thoroughly unhelpful as the huge mole on her neck rendered me unable to attend to the conversation.
I would like you to replace my gym bag and its contents, or at least give me a McDonald’s or Hungry Jacks voucher for a double cheeseburger meal (but not KFC, I am not allowed in there anymore after last month when a woman brought a dog in in her handbag and it could smell my fear and my throat was exposed so I drop kicked it).
If my bag is handed in or you wish send me a voucher, please throw a note with the details away into your main trash bin- the dumpster it is emptied into is where I shop for clothes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
I hope this terrible situation can be put to rights. I also hope that I get my cape back, or at least another one of equal or better quality for Christmas.
Please enjoy the 40 minute flute solo I have recorded onto the tape enclosed.
A biography is the story of someone’s life. Short biographies tell the interesting facts about someone and the things they’ve done, but it can be difficult to know what to include. Whether it is for a school project or a wedding speech, we’ve got a formula you can follow for success.
Open with an ice-breaker, referring to your subject:
Grace. What can I say about Grace?
Start with a relevant basic fact about the person, for example their career:
Full time lawyer, part time rapper.
Be informative about a significant life event:
It was a pity her debut single “Bitches Moles Titties” was labelled an international humanitarian crisis, alongside the refugees in Sudan. It’s line ‘Bitches yo titties mole’s in da club, tightarse swagger see me lawyer yo ass, Tupac who, I iz got all the class’ accompanied by the dance moves ‘pelvis circle, arm pump across face, arm pump across face, high kick, thrust thrust hump’ was universally rejected, incidentally assisting tensions between Israel and Palestine as the citizens united in bewildered disgust.
Elaborate on how this event made the person noteworthy:
The video clip, filmed in her little brother Joe’s room and featuring a cap worn backwards and Grace’s red Scotch track pants, was banned in 47 countries (including Puerto Rico, but excluding the Vatican, where, in a surprising turn of events, it has been a steady No.2 on the charts, behind ‘Lord, You’re Flocking Kidding Me’, and is the Pope’s ringtone).
Discuss how this event impacted on your subject’s life:
Unfortunately, Grace has an addictive personality, and lost most of her profits at the hound track (in a drastic and unprecedented move she put three quarters of her earnings on her pug Leo for the win, a daring strategy given that he is both fat and was not entered in the race).
With the remaining quarter of her $12, Grace parked in the city for 50 minutes.
Did he or she overcome obstacles? Take risks?
Grace overcomes obstacles every day of her life, as her house’s front door is blocked by a dumpster, a trolley, an art easel, and a hobo. She takes risks in leaving her trolley and art easel outside with the hobo.
If able to, get a personal comment from someone in their life:
(mumbed) “Fuckin number 13 leaving all her shit in my area all you government workers smell like mouthwash and burning rubber if I didn’t have this strainer on my head so they don’t probe me I’d get up and … (fades out)” - Kenny, Grace’s hobo
Conclude your biography by bringing your readers/audience up to date with the subject’s current situation:
Grace spends her spare time at the park, throwing thongs at kids’ heads.
And voila! Biography done, they will be just thrilled with your efforts.
Lloyd, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that you’ve lost another year of your life and are closer to dying than you’ve ever been in your life so far. The fact that you are a douchebag is also some bad news for you.
The good news is that I have written you a birthday message, so you can print it out and stick it to your wall whenever you need to be reminded that great people will deign to speak to you if you manage to date their sister.
And I sent you a present in the post, it is a hamster. That is very good news as it didn’t look promising for a while there, it took me like 20 minutes in the post office to get the friggin thing into one of those large envelopes. I also included a three pack of pencil sharpeners but they’re not part of the present so please send me $3.20. I accept cheque or coins.
While you are stupid for forgetting you are the most followed person on the planet and pashing on with a married man on a bridge, I will refrain from judging you too harshly.
We all make mistakes. A similar thing happened to me recently when I threw my first dinner party and served roast chicken, except they had no chickens left at the supermarket so it was sausages, and being unacquainted with my oven trays, it was served on what turned out to be a bin lid.
Women have to support each other even if one of them is a tramp. That is you. The woman who is the tramp that I was referring to.
If you need some extra warmth on one of the lonely nights to come I am sure you can make a blanket out of money. It would have a nicer rustle than the toilet paper I use.
Yours in support, Kylie from Australia
To whom it may concern (at Ikea),
Recently I went to your store in the hopes of purchasing a new lamp, as my current torch taped to a stick taped to a brick is only lighting a shaft across the bottom left hand corner of my bed and I have moved on from my light taser phase.
I was recommended your wares by a pleasant woman I passed in the street last week who had several Ikea items in her trolley and a ‘Dokument’ waste paper basket on her head. She even threw a small Ikea stool under a passing car, a durability test indeed!
So I set off last Saturday with a big smile on my face and my new Berry Blast Chapstick in my pocket. At first sight your store was a wonderland! So many cupboards to fit inside of and toilets to sit on. Oh happy day! But then the day got less and less happy.
You see I had found a new lamp quite early on and was ready to make my purchase and leave, but alas, the store wouldn’t let me! I traipsed along an endless pathway; lurid piles of coloured cushions collapsing on top of me, coat hangers pulling at me as I tried to tear past, pot plants thwacking me in the face.
By the time I climbed over a severely dehydrated pregnant woman to get to the checkout my shoes had worn through and my feet were bleeding. A man I had used as a human shield in the knobs and handles section had even grown a slight beard! So had his wife but I of course didn’t say anything (just politely pointed out the small price tag dangling from the edge of her moustache and left).
It wasn’t until after I got home and put on my new Reeboks that I realised my Berry Blast Chapstick wasn’t in my pocket! It must have been dislodged during some vigorous hopping.
I will require $3.75 in compensation for the loss of my Chapstick as a direct result of your hazard of a store. I purchased the just mentioned Chapstick for $3.45. The other 30 cents is for inflation, as according to A Current Affair it is going up and that is why we are getting up to 16% less washing liquid per bottle. From the brands we trust, no less.
I will accept cheque or coins.
Yours with chapped lips,
Last Tuesday, I was a very happy camper. I got up at 7 rather than my usual 7.30, a move that I’m sure would confound and amaze a shithead like yourself. I did this for two reasons- one I had to feed my new Axilottle or Mexican Walking Fish who I have cleverly named Axistotle by combining the name of the philosopher Aristotle and the correct title of the type of fish he is. It had taken several hours of scrabble the day before so I was still quite chuffed with myself at 7 that morning.
The other and somewhat more relevant reason for my earlybird arising was to prepare myself the most scrumptious lunch to take to work with me. I laboured for 20 minutes on my sandwich, included a slice of quiche, cut up a colourful selection of fruits and frosted my own cupcake with a birthday candle on it just to make myself feel more special (I would not have lit it and/or sung myself Happy Birthday under my breath as it is not my birthday and I am not a loser).
My work that morning was certainly sub-par on account of the trembling excitement I felt in anticipation of my feast- I over-sharpened several pencils and could barely make legible the names on the invitations to the party I am throwing for Axistotle next weekend. You will forgive me for skipping over the next scene as it is understandably difficult to relive, but am sure you remember the sobbing and corner-crouching that ensued (if not I believe Gary posted it to YouTube shortly after).
The fridge theft tore me apart. After I had recovered enough to regain my hunger I of course had to eat Janelle’s lunch. This mattered less as Janelle is fat and had already eaten both her post-breakfast and pre-lunch meals so wasn’t at risk of fading away. Douchebag/Terry from Accounting, this day will be forever recorded in my diary as Terrible Tuesday, and to ensure such atrocities never happen again I have bought a state-of-the-art lunchbox with a lock, video camera and a shiny Power Rangers design with one Ranger on each side. Full protection. Keep away.
N.D. (& Axistotle)