I went out for a pizza with LM last night. No talk of his immediate resignation, but he’s looking very fed up. He didn’t get a pay rise, like us. Naturally, he regarded my good humour with thinly veiled sourness. I do wonder at this extraordinary hard on HD seems to have for him.

He told me a good one from The Decline and Fall of Turns-on-her-heels. She had told him she was resigning, and he was explaining to her that she would have to do this in writing. She was refusing to do this, but he was trying to explain to her that if she went about it this way The Company would pay her return air-fare, if not, they wouldn’t. During the course of this conversation she produced a mirror and tweezers from her handbag and began to pluck hairs from her chin.

Incidentally, I’ve stopped glowering at HD, and he’s a happy little hamster, running around in his wee wheel, and peeing in the corner of his perceptual cage with apparent cheeriness. He told T3 and me the story this morning of his wife’s return to the country last night, and the three hour battle he had (with a lot of help from The Company), to get her through immigration. The snag seems to have been the fact that she was returning on a second tourist visa in a short space of time. His rather affecting faith in those visas has, at least, been blown away. Not so his faith in the efficacy of shouting at foreigners and telling them you’re British.

IT Bloke has gone down with the skittas. I don’t know, but suspect this may have to do with our new sandwich bar, which is being run by two daft lads. Anyhow, I’m going to do without my customary mid-morning miniature pizza today.