Jester, Annual Leave and Amusing Quotes

I discovered to my horror, yesterday, that I've almost run out of annual leave. I also discovered that I only booked one week's leave in July when we've booked and paid for a 2 week holiday and I've had to put in a request for the 2nd week. I sincerely hope the request goes through or all hell is going to break loose Chez Jester. The problem is, and I think I've mentioned it before, our Resource Planning Team is mainly comprised of petty gauleiters, who enjoy nothing more than refusing leave on the grounds of staffing levels and moaning about how much time we spend on "After Call". It's my mistake though, so I'm going to have to sort it out.

I heard from an ex-Jester this morning, who has moved further up north and now works in a call centre up there. He sent me some amusing things he overheard at work recently. I sincerely hope the quotees were joking but you can't always be sure. Here they are:

Where does wind come from? Is it made by those wind turbines?

Was Jesus around at the time of the dinosaurs?

It's great, isn't it?

Glass v Polycarbonate

Please read this if you haven't already and sign the petition. It is truly a worthy cause. My heart goes out to Blake and his family.

Not in my name

My husband told me yesterday that Chemical Ali has been sentenced to death. You can follow this link to the story on BBC News if you want. I find it very disturbing indeed because I thought the whole idea of the "liberation" of Iraq was so that the Iraqi people could have a Western style democracy. I can't see where hanging, or any other form of execution, comes into it at all. Now, I know the US has a federal death penalty and that 38 of the 50 States have the death penalty bu then I really am unable to think of the US as a true democracy because of it.

I am proud to be part of the EU because of its unequivocal opposition to the death penalty. No country can become part of the EU unless it has first abolished it. I could not live in a country which executes its criminals, no matter how heinous the crime. People sometimes asks me how I would feel if my daughter had been murdered by, for instance, Ian Huntley. I cannot even begin to imagine how that would feel but I do not believe that it is a valid argument for the death penalty. My opinion would not count in such circumstances, anyway. How could I possibly have a balanced opinion if my daughter had been murdered?

Some of these people have told me that they would happily pull the lever, administer the lethal injection or pull the trigger on child killers. That always puts me in mind of a story I heard about Heinrich Himmler. He had gone to watch the mass killing of Jews in Poland. At that point, they were still being shot and he was said to have vomited after some brains from one victim splashed onto his coat. So, don't say "I'd happily execute them" until you know what it entails.

My opposition to the death penalty is not well thought out anyway. I simply believe that nobody has the right to take the life of another human being for any reason whatsoever. We're only on this planet for a very short time. To terminate a life before it has been completed is a dreadful thing to do. I don't believe in any form of afterlife. I don't believe that there is retribution waiting for "evil-doers" in some kind of firy hell or reward for "good" people in heaven. As far as I am aware, you are born, you live, you die. Full Stop. So how can we possibly justify the killing of anybody.

So to get back to Chemical Ali, he had no right to order the killing of the Kurds in 1988 but neither does anybody have the right to order his killing. He is on this earth for his short allotted span and, no matter how bad he has been, he should be allowed to complete it.

Jester, Pennywise, Jessica and Smokey Robinson

Pennywise is due back at work today. I'm not holding my breath and we will see. I'm not going in today either because my youngest daughter, Bobbie, has a hospital appointment and, to be frank, Bobbie's health is more important than the Dark Satanic Mill.

For any of you who are interested, Bobbie has Henoch Schonlein Purpura and presents the following symptoms: purpuric rash, joint inflammation and pain, stomach pain and kidney problems. The last is why she is now under one of the leading kidney specialists in the country. Not only is he a superb doctor but he never talks down to Bobbie (who is 16) and has a great sense of humour too. Bobbie will get better in the end but it is a slow process. Poor kid.

Anyway, I've asked my great friend and adopted little sister, Goodwill Jessica, to let me know if Pennywise comes into work today. Some of you may wonder why I refer to her as my adopted little sister. I'm a youngest child, with two older sisters and when I was much, much younger than I am now, I used to yearn for a younger brother or sister. Unfortunately, this yearning never went away. I've always got on well with Jessica and during one of our many conversations we have had over the years, it transpired that she is the eldest of four girls and always wanted a big sister. I think fate made us have that conversation and we adopted each other then and there.

Jessica and I work well together, which is useful because we both deal with high level complaints and after recent events, what we all needed most was teamwork. She is also a true friend to me and has been totally supportive to me at my lowest points. Unfortunately, like many jesters (and clowns) Smokey Robinson's immortal words apply quite well to me:

"Just like Pagliacci did / I try to keep my surface hid / Smiling in the crowd I try / But in a lonely room I cry / The tears of a clown"

I'm not lovelorn or anything, just a tad depressive and Jessica, being very sensitive to my moods, always knows what to do and when. I'm very, very lucky to have a friend like her and I hope that I can return the compliment as and when necessary.

Jester, Her Chair and the Unusual Customer

I nearly fell off my chair on Wednesday...

Actually, let's rewind that and make it a bit more dramatic...

I fell off my chair on Wednesday. I'm a High Level or Complex Jester and deal with complaints that have been addressed to our Managing Director or Chief Executive Officer amongst other things. So, not unsurprisingly, I was asked to respond to a complaint on Monday from somebody who had decided to write to an Important Person at the Dark Satanic Mill.

I spoke to him briefly on the Monday and agreed to ring him back on the Wednesday because his toilet was going to be repaired on the Tuesday. He seemed a nice enough chap at the time.

So, on Wednesday, I rang him back and we chatted a while and I told him all the things I would do to make sure he would not receive such poor service next time (one of the things we could do is to remove some of contractors from our Network [but not the ones who read this blog!]). Mr Customer seemed quite confident that feeding his issues back to the relevant managers (I'm really getting the hang of Mill Newspeak now) would have the desired effect and so we turned to the thorny issue of Com-pen-sa-tion. We call it the C-word - a little in-joke for jesters all over the English-speaking world.

I offered an amount, not much, but a little higher than I thought his complaint merited. Going to the top ups the stakes usually. His answer left me speechless and on the floor, having fallen off my chair. He told me he did not want any money, he just wanted to know that we had done something about it.

I actually had to apologise for going silent and I was very honest with him. I told him that usually, when customers refuse a gesture of goodwill, it's because they don't think it's high enough. I had also gone silent because his answer had left me a bit short of breath with a funny fluttery feeling in my stomach. It is an unusual situation, you see, and I'm not well equipped to cope with it. I'm more used to having customers say things like "I'll see you in court" and some of them do actually carry out their threat, although they would probably be very disappointed not to see an insignificant little jester in the dock while the judge puts a black cap on his head and sentences her to a slow and painful death involving lots of money. I'm not sure who represents the Dark Satanic Mill at the Small Claims Court but it certainly not me or any of my fellow jesters.

Anyway, it was a pleasure to see a return to old values, you know the "I don't need money, it's just nice to know you're doing something about it" sort of thing.

I would also like to tell you that no chairs were harmed during the making of this blog.

Jester and blocked e-mails

I love e-mail admin. It's great fun. I sent the Dark Satanic Mill's Dignity at Work policy home by e-mail so I could refer to it when writing my last blog and the company's mail marshal blocked it because the policy contains the word "sex". Oooh, how rude! I went through the e-mail and substituted S's with 5s and it got through. Machines aren't as clever as people are they? I then tried to send the e-mail which had alerted me to the blocked mail and that was blocked too! Here it is:

-----Original Message-----From: mmadmin@darksatanicmillplc.com [mailto:mmadmin@darksatanicmillplc.com ] Sent: 19 June 2007 15:02To: [No, you're not having my e-mail address!] Subject: Your e-mail message was blockedMailMarshal (an automated content monitoring gateway) has stopped the following email for the following reason:It believes it may contain unacceptable language, or inappropriate material. Message: B000db40ed.00000001.mml From: [No, you're not having my e-mail address!] To: [No, you're not having my e-mail address!] Subject: Rod Please remove any inappropriate language and send it again.The blocked email will be automatically deleted after 1 day.MailMarshal Rule: Content Security (Outbound) : Block Unacceptable LanguageScript Offensive Language (Basic) Triggered in BodyExpression: sex Triggered 1 times weighting 5Email Content Security provided by NetIQ MailMarshal.

Okay, it's a bit heavy reading but it amused me at the time. Oh and please don't try the e-mail addresses. I hope they don't exist but if they do, they're not for the place where I work.

Thanks.
Jester
xx

Jester and the Dignity at Work Policy

A couple of weeks ago, we were sent our Dignity at Work policy by e-mail. This was to be "cascaded" to anybody without e-mail accounts so that everybody would have to obey the rules. By the way, I love office-speak. Don't say pass, say cascade. It's a bit like Newspeak in 1984, if a (tiny) bit less sinister. This policy has caused much amusement in the Complaints Department in the Dark Satanic Mill because we're now not allowed to take the piss out of each other in case we offend:

a) each other,
b) the powers that be or
c) some over-sensitive, bleeding heart liberal who just happens to be in earshot.

Great. I'm now no longer allowed to tell my Team Manager that Jasper is coming over all queer. Jasper is no longer allowed to call me Dolly Looselegs (and yes, it is a slanderous nickname). He's not allowed to call Mr Grumpy Grandad and I'm not allowed to call Mr Grumpy Mr Grumpy and, as my Manager said so unhappily, she's no longer allowed to call me a Lanky Streak of anything.

The really sad thing is that, although there are some words that are really beyond the pale and I would hesitate to use them in this blog, even as examples, others are used as badges of pride. Jasper does not mind me saying he's coming over all queer again (I sometimes use the plural, which makes him scream with laughter) or calling him a poof. He regularly refers to himself as a poof but taking the piss out of each other can be a very strong indication of how much a member of the team you are. It can show acceptance of the highest order. Jessina is not offended when I tell her she has a big gob. For a start, it's true, she does, but also she knows that I have the confidence to tell her that when I'm white and she's asian. She also has the confidence to take the piss out of me in return. That has to be a good thing.

So, let's rewrite the dignity at work policy and keep it simple:

Don't be offensive
Treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself
Keep your sense of humour

and don't forget to tell the Gay Ian Paisley the Irish Electrician joke at least twice a year.

Jessica, Jemma and the Delicate Situation

There were panic stations at the Dark Satanic Mill today. Well, not throughout the Dark Satanic Mill; just in our part, the complaints department. My colleague, friend, evil sidekick and "adopted" daughter, Gemma, was logging complaints that had been received by phone in our call centre at about 4pm this afternoon. She was looking at one when she came over to me with a puzzled look on her face.

"I'm not sure what to do with this one, Jester," she said. "One of our engineers has been taken hostage by a customer." I asked her for the job number and brought the details up on my computer and there it was. The notes said that the customer had said that the engineer had turned up with the wrong part and she wasn't going to let him leave the house until he had fitted the right part. The girl who had put the note on the job then spoke to the engineer and he had apparently confirmed that he was being held hostage.

This struck me as bizarre for a number of reasons:

1) How could the engineer get the right part without leaving the house?
2) Why had the girl not tried to get help to the engineer? She could have called the police for instance or the engineer's field manager.
3) Why had she "diaried" the job to our department so we could pick it up a couple of hours too late? (And that is quick for us too!)

After her notes were some notes from a team manager, who had seemed more concerned about getting the correct parts for the boiler than managing to negotiate the release of the "hostage". Now, I know hostage negotiation is a difficult job and is best carried out by trained professionals but I did think that telling the customer we were going to call the police might have done the trick. Instead, he had tried to find out if the right part was locally available.

Then nothing. No more notes. For all we knew, the engineer could have died a nasty, protracted death at the hands of an irate customer.

I'm very worried about looking a fool so I didn't ring the police. Instead, I first tried to contact the girl who had put the original notes on and then the team manager, with no success. I then rang the field manager and asked him if he was aware that one of his engineers was being held hostage (we hadn't had a call from a relieved engineer telling us that the situation had been defused and he was once again a free man). The FM (field manager) asked which engineer I was referring to. I gave the name of the poor unfortunate. He said, no, he was not aware but he had had a call from head office saying that this very engineer had been stuck on a job for 3 hours and they had had to reschedule some of his appointments. Not bloody surprising was my thought. He'd probably been locked in a cupboard or cellar for the 3 hours.

I asked him to ring the engineer and check he was okay. I said the poor man probably needed a welfare call. After a couple more unsuccessful attempts to call the team manager, I rang the FM back. He put me straight:

No the engineer had not been taken hostage. He had turned up with the wrong part and the customer had been a little bit annoyed. Not with him, though, she had been annoyed with the previous engineers who had attended. She had then asked if the engineer could stay in the house while she tried to find the right part. She had been speaking to the girl at the Dark Satanic Mill who had put a note on the job stating that the engineer had been taken hostage. The girl had then spoken to the engineer who said "It's like being held hostage". He had been joking. We had tried to find the part but it was not locally available and he had left the house, safe and well, and gone onto his next job.

Panic over. I then, finally, managed to get through to the team manager, who knew that the engineer had not been taken hostage. I pointed out to him that it might have made our jobs a little easier had the following rules been followed:

1) Don't say an engineer has been taken hostage when he hasn't.
2) Don't diary to the complaints department when there is no complaint and an engineer hasn't been taken hostage.
3) If there are notes on a job saying an engineer has been taken hostage and you know he hasn't. Put notes on saying he hasn't been taken hostage.
4) If an engineer has been taken hostage, don't diary it to complaints. He'll be dead before we pick it up.
5) If an engineer has been taken hostage, try ringing the police. I mean, it's not as if they have anything to do, is it? (Sorry, that was just plain bad of me.)

Now, I really wanted to finish this blog with a video of Jack Point (the jester from Yeomen of the Guard) singing "I have a song to sing-o" but could I find it??? Could I heck as like! So here is Tundra Rap from the Mighty Boosh instead.

Pennywise, Jester, Copperfield and Portable Blogs

Pennywise was due back at work today. Do you know that since 23 April, 3 days before I posted Jester, Jessica, Pennywise and the Proverbial, he has been at work for a grand total of 2½ days? Anyway, he didn't come back today and now he's been signed off for another two weeks. Now, I really don't want to be uncharitable but I'm in grave danger of being so because it's so infuriating. We've picked up all the pieces now. They're well and truly gone. So what have I to complain about? Jessica and I have this nasty niggling feeling that when he does come back, he'll have an uncomfortable couple of weeks and then all this will be swept under the carpet because it happened once before and he got away with it.

I was off last year with stress and as a welfare move, my manager put me onto standard complaints as a temporary measure (I'm an established member of the Complex Team). Then, a few months later, I was told that because I had not been dealing with Complex and High Level Complaints, I would be marked down as Below Expectations at my next PDR. I called in the Union and put in a grievance and explained that I had been put onto standard complaints to reduce my stress and now they were simply increasing it. Our HR Manager came up with a good compromise. My PDR was put back by two months to allow me to "catch up" and I got a "Meets". That was fine by me. My reason for being a little cynical now is that Pennywise has never had to fight the system like I had to last year and I hadn't left a huge mess for my colleagues to clean up.

Well, enough bitching for one blog. My original idea for this blog was inspired when I was recently sat on the bog reading Copperfield's blog. Okay, I was sat on the toilet reading Copperfield's book (well worth buying and cheap at the price), but bog rhymes with blog and I'm sure the contents of the book come from his numerous blogs. It's a nice handy way of getting the blog up into the smallest room. I don't have a lap top and the desk top is a bit bulky for carrying upstairs and downstairs when I need to go.

Maybe I'm being a bit familiar calling him Copperfield (and I sincerely hope he doesn't mind) but I feel like I know him now. Maybe it's because I'm married to an articulate policeman (and have been for 21 years, bless him!) or maybe it's because I've read a few of his blogs now, on and off the toilet. Or maybe both reasons apply. Anyway, I like calling him Copperfield, so you'll just have to lump it.

So I was wondering where he gets the time to blog. A cursory glance through his last few blogs shows that he's posted one every other day for a little while. He's prolific. Aah, then I remembered. Policemen work shifts (well, the ones who do real police work do, anyway), which means they're at home when other members of the family aren't (except my unemployed daughter) and they're awake when other members of the family aren't (except my insomniac son). My husband spends hours in front of the computer in the morning trying to get his sluggish digestive system into action (usually with little success). I'm sure he could blog if he put his mind to it, although I think he might plead superfluity - there are quite a few police blogs out there already. So he bubble shoots, reads blogs, Copperfield's and Gadget's amongst them (it was him who got me reading them in the first place) but not mine - he's too embarrassed - and reading The Telegraph online. He also checks out Amazon and puts books, DVDs and CDs onto his wish list.

Maybe PC Copperfield skips the bubble shooting and concentrates instead on his writing. If he does, I'm glad he does. It's great to see my poor hubby isn't in a minority of one (although when it comes to insufferable wives, he probably is) and that other policemen view the job in much the same way as he does. Now if Copperfield ever read my blog (on the toilet or not as the case may be) - that would be nice!

Great Minds thinking alike

There is an expression "Great minds think alike". It's probably true. However, I think it's also probably true that "Small minds think alike". Please read the following extracts from two letters recently received at the Dark Satanic Mill. One was addressed to me and the other was addressed to my friend and colleague Goodwill Gerard (I'm running out of suitable names now).

"So, to insult my family with this obscene offer ... only shows your customer service dept is about as good as your engineers" (To Jester. I have quoted it verbatim, including abbreviations and lack of punctuation.)

"Regrettably your compensation process seems to be as ill co-ordinated as the emergency service about which i first complained." (To Gerard. Again, quoted verbatim, warts and all.)

Talking of pusillanimity, I had the pleasure of humming the theme from Thomas the Tank Engine today while the Fat Controller was stood a few feet from my desk talking to my managers. He won't have known that it was directed at him but I enjoyed it. Of course, I'm referring to him when I mention pusillanimity, not me. I just wanted to make sure you know.

Keeping this side of insanity

Inspector Gadget wondered how I manage to stay sane and that got me thinking. My family don't keep me sane, they make me more insane. Having said that, I know that I make them insane too so we're even there. This blog keeps me sane because it creates a little bit of objective distance for me so I can see the madness that is the Dark Satanic Mill for what it is. Finally, what I get up to when I doff my cap and bells keeps me sane. Here is a pictorial guide to what Jester gets up to in her spare time.

Music:



Sport:



and yes, I am one of the dancers. I wear a different kind of cap and bells when I do this.

More sport:






And also:


and:

There are more but I think this is enough for now.

Jester, Audits and Defences

About two and a bit years ago, the Dark Satanic Mill had an Internal FSA Audit. I remember it well. Our Head Office in the West Midlands sent somebody up to our office and he went to various people in various departments and asked them lots of questions. When he came to our Department, he asked me lots of questions.

At the time I was dealing with Underwriter complaints (the customer, not happy with our response would "escalate" the complaint to our Underwriter, who would send the complaint to us and we would respond on their behalf), sending Final Response Letters and preparing FOS Files.

My training thus far had been notable in its absence. Everything I had been doing I had worked out for myself or by asking my colleagues at Head Office. For instance, I had had no idea how to frame a Final Response Letter and this had only come to light when FOS had refused to deal with a complaint because my Final Response Letter to the customer was not a Final Response Letter. My colleague from HQ had sent me a few examples and I had been able to frame one that would satisfy FOS. My FOS files had been a shambles, to put it politely.

So this gentleman from HQ came over and asked me a few questions. I was never blessed with the gift of blagging so I answered them honestly. I don't really remember very well what they were but I know he asked me what training I had received for what I was doing and I answered truthfully that I had received no formal training and anything I did know I had picked up as I went along.

He thanked me for my time and went his way.

In no time at all, the Fat Controller (see previous posts for my opinion of him), our Customer Service Director, was at my desk asking me why I had told the auditor what I had told him. I answered truthfully that I had told him the truth, no more, no less. Was there a problem with that? Well, yes, actually, there was. I had made the Dark Satanic Mill look bad. I told him that I was sorry but I don't actually like lying and I didn't think that I would have been able to pull off a lie in this case. The Fat Controller went his way, still not happy with me.

A little later, our Internal Operations Director came over to me. I actually quite like this man. He's a big bloke. A rugby player with a West Midlands accent. He knows who I am and will have a quick chat with me if he gets the opportunity. However, he asked me much the same questions as the Fat Controller had done and got the same responses. He went away just as dissatisfied with me as the Fat Controller.

I was glad I caused a stir. It had been scandalous how I had been treated. I had been thrown in at the deep end and I had not had a clue what I was doing or how to do it. I do feel my card was marked at the time, although I had simply been a good Quaker girl and told the truth. There is no love lost between me and the Fat Controller now, although I still get on with the Internal Operations Director.

So fast forward two and a bit years to Yesterday. Ah, Yesterday (no I'm not going to break into song, not even a Lennon/McCartney song). Yesterday, I prepared a Defence for a County Court Claim and before you ask, no, I am not a solicitor. I have not even had the rudimentary legal training that some of my colleagues have received. No, I didn't want to do it but I was left with no option. One of the cases that my colleague Pennywise (see previous posts) has left with me is a County Court Claim. I had been waiting for our company solicitor to return from leave because I really did not know what to do with it (I always send mine to him so he can do all the paperwork but Pennywise had not done this). Our solicitor, lets call him Anthony, told me that we had run out of time and I would need to get a defence in as quickly as possible and one thing we could be sure of was he wasn't going to do it because he had a pile of stuff on his desk reaching to the ceiling that was more of a priority.

So poor old Jester had to do it. I spoke to Jessica, who has prepared a defence (in much the same circumstances as me) and she printed off hers and gave it to me so I could use it as a template. I did the rest. I did the investigation (including speaking to our Contractor), I drafted the defence, which took all day, and I e-mailed it to Anthony so he could check it and amend it. I did not get it back and I'm off work today walking in the Lakes with my husband, who has to deal with the absurdities of being a 21st Century policeman on a daily basis, so it won't get sent today.

So, as they say in France, "Plus c'est la meme chose, plus ça change", or, as they say in the Dark Satanic Mill, "SOS, same old sh*t".

Jester, Jasper and the Slight Mistake

I post this blog on two sites: this one and Wordpress (it's nice to reach as large an audience as possible). I had a comment left on the other site a day or two ago from a blogger whom I consider to be one of the best, Inspector Gadget. This left me dancing round my house in a state of euphoria yesterday singing "Inspector Gadget commented me, Inspector Gadget commented me". I didn't realise he even read my tales. It has had another effect though. I've finally been dragged up from the doldrums and finally I feel up to writing a blog again.

Inspector Gadget was interested to know how I/we stay sane. Well, obviously my mental state is not so delicate that I ever get pushed over the edge into true insanity (although many of my fellow jesters would say I fell over the edge many years ago) but I can state with absolute conviction that if I were ever in any danger, having my colleagues around me would hold me back.

We have a wonderful mix of people on our department. We have WASPs, and I must include heterosexuals in this category; we have a sub-group - a couple of born again Christians; we have gay men, a lesbian, a couple who claim to be bi-sexual; we have a number of Asian Muslims; we have catholics (and yes, I'm sorry, you were an afterthought). I can safely say that I get on with every single one of them. My Asian Muslim lady colleagues have delighted because they have exploded so many of my misconceptions about them. I'm afraid I always assumed them to be very serious indeed and when it comes to sex, at best shy and at worst prudish. Not so, they can laugh with the rest of us at jokes and like drains at a dirty joke. And that is just a few of my colleagues. They range from pleasant to abso-blooming-lutely wonderful.

Across the way from me sits Goodwill Jasper, a gay, Northern Irish Protestant from Londonderry (yes, I would tend to drop the London bit, descended from Southern Irish Catholics as I am). We have a number of names for him. I've called him the gay Ian Paisley, Mr Grumpy calls him Dolly (don't ask!), Jasper likes to call himself "Hot Rod Sex God". He is one of the funniest people I know. Jasper"drags up" and actually makes a very attractive woman and almost indistinguishable from the real thing (I was fooled myself, the first time I saw him in drag). His drag name is Lin, short for Linoleum "because I spend all my time on my back and I've seen more ceilings than Michelangelo". This is one of the many things he says that have me in stitches. Most, admittedly are too crude for this blog but another is "I like my men like I like my coffee: hot, strong and sweet, like Terico..." Actually, he quite often sings this.

Jasper belongs to a website, available only through his phone company. There, you can post a link with pictures and people will contact you. Jasper has stated quite categorically that he is a gay man, so there is no mistake and his pictures are supposed to be posted in the section for gay men. Recently, he posted a picture on the site. I've seen it and, admittedly, it is hard to tell what gender he is in the picture. The site posted it on the section for women, straight women (Jasper won't mind me using the word straight; he's not too bothered about Political Correctness. Just don't be rude and mean it). This was about 9 o'clock in the morning. By Lunch, he had about 30 messages, mainly from heterosexual men but one from a lesbian. I think they all thought he was a "hot chick". Lin had finally become real. He had to reply to them all and explain the mistake. When he finished work, there had been another 90 or so, including replies to his replies to earlier messages. I think he spent the whole evening explaining the mistake to myriad heterosexual men, some of them no longer so certain about their sexuality.

I found it hilarious and, needless to say, yet another potential lapse into insanity was averted.

So finally, Inspector Gadget, how do you manage to stay sane? I'm married to a Police Constable of 21 years' standing and I don't know how he manages it. He doesn't know either, although I do know that he has decent colleagues who think in the same way as him and are able to convince him that it is the machine that is wrong, not him. I'm lucky to be a Jester. I wouldn't swap my cap and bells for truncheon, handcuffs and CS Spray....ever!