• Page update – 30/10/12

    Joe Citizens - new story, regarding Motability scooters. My favourite!

  • The Un-Civil Servant

  • BB

    BB is Bureaucratic Bullsh*t.
    It can also stand for Big Brother.
    In the civil service, they are one and the same.

  • What’s it all about?

    Bureaucracy is an umbrella term for official incompetence; that is, incompetence which has officially been sanctioned as being good practice. No-where in the world is that more apparent than in the British public sector. Misadministration of public services is the backbone of every government led department.
    Trust me, I’m a civil servant.

  • It’s a disease

    Bureaucracy runs rife through the corridors of power like a child riddled with ADHD, high on fizzy pop, crisps and jelly-beans.

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  • Bullsh*t Alert

DWP – Dead Walking People


DWP – Dead Walking People (one)

Posted on October 24, 2012 by Blithe Spirit | Edit

Christchurch Earthquake - University

I will knock down the Gates of the Netherworld,
I will smash the door posts, and leave the doors flat down,
and will let the dead go up to eat the living!
And the dead will outnumber the living!        The Epic of Gilgamesh
                                                                                             

There was a huge bang, an explosive boom.  It was quickly followed by an intense rumble that vibrated through the building.  We all looked up from what we were doing, most of us still on a call.  Never one to pass by a chance to rid myself of an obnoxious customer, I cut my call off and looked around.  Those still on calls continued to help the ungrateful callers, albeit with a puzzled look on their faces, those of us not on calls looked around the office and at each other, wondering what had happened.  The rumbling trailed off but seconds later, the windows rattled violently as if buffeted by hurricane winds.  Some of the women gave short screams, a couple of staff ran to the windows and peered out.  It had felt like an earth quake but we don’t get quakes in the UK which shake buildings like that and I’m pretty sure they don’t start with a bang.  The windows stopped their rattling and normal office sounds resumed.   How odd.  Had it been a bomb somewhere up the road or a gas explosion?  Before I could open my mouth to speak to my colleague next to me, the windows shook again, this time with less vigour.

O.M.G!  A thought struck me and a memory from my military past came flashing back.  In the event of a nuclear detonation, there is a fast blast of air that radiates outwards from the explosion, then a few seconds later, it returns to the source as a vacuum is created by the intense heat.  Is that what it was?  Had we finally entered World War Three?

DWP – Dead Walking People (two)

Posted on October 25, 2012 by Blithe Spirit | Edit

This image was selected as a picture of the we...

“What the hell’s going on?” It was Sara, sitting at the desk next to me.

“I’m not sure, but I think we’d better find out,” I said, looking around for a supervisor and wouldn’t you know it – the lazy bastards aren’t any where to be seen.  There’s a lot of talking now and very little work going on.  Someone shouts up from the other end of the room that the phones are dead – there are no calls coming through.  This is verified by other agents as they take off their headsets and stand up.  Well, I always wanted to get out of this crap job, but was I OK with it taking a nuclear war to do it?  I think I was.

I walk over to a window and look up at a sky that has darkened to an ash grey.  One of the windows is open slightly and I smell brick-dust and burning.   The air is warm and seems to fizzle in my nostrils.  Bloody hell, is this really happening?  Sarah comes over and sees my wide eyes glaze over.

“What is it Carl?”

“Third world war, I do believe,” I say, with a smile on my face.

I must have looked a bit strange because Sarah backs off sightly, then turns to walk out into the corridor.  I look towards the door and through the two long slatted windows, I see someone run by.  Followed a few seconds later by someone else who seemed to be limping.

“Sarah,” I say.  “I’d be careful if I was you.   We don’t know what state this place is in.”

Sarah turns at the door, looks at me with a far away expression and goes into the corridor.  Just as she gets through the doors, someone smashes into her from the side and she’s gone from my view.  I look around our room.  Everyone seems bewildered, some scared, others happy to be off the phones, probably thinking this is just a minor problem which is giving them a welcome break.  Still no supervisors about.

I head towards the doors and try to peer sideways through the glass slats.  Nothing.  No-one.  No, wait.  There’s a dirty red smear on the wall opposite.  I begin to push ever so slowly on the door, easing it open just a fraction, then stumble back in panic as a man shoots past, blood spurting from stumps that used to be fingers.

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