Blogorama
Following a protracted saga of negotiations and subterfuge I have agreed to record a few thoughts and observations for you, the dear reader, live from where I'm sitting.
It all began when Blogger contacted my people one balmy evening in June to enquire about the possibility of taking me on board. "What are they offering?" I barked at my attractive PA, Gertrude, as she whispered this occurrence into my left lobe. Rubbing a calligraphy pen up and down her neck in that hypnotic manner that only she can, she replied: "Four thousand pounds a week, a maisonette overlooking the banks of the River Thames, and an authentic brass bedpan from the Victorian era."
"Tell them I'm still laughing" I howled derisively, understandably insulted by this offer.
And so began the tense diplomatic standoff between myself and Blogger.com. For three whole weeks, I held my nerve in the belief that their people would come back to my people with an improved offer.
True to expectations, they cracked first. Last night, just as I was preparing to bathe in a vat of champagne, Gertrude burst forth into my oak panelled bedsit in that hypnotic way that only she can.
"They're throwing in a year's supply of blue raspberry Slush Puppie!", she proclaimed, clearly excited.
Deal. Cock of the North.
It all began when Blogger contacted my people one balmy evening in June to enquire about the possibility of taking me on board. "What are they offering?" I barked at my attractive PA, Gertrude, as she whispered this occurrence into my left lobe. Rubbing a calligraphy pen up and down her neck in that hypnotic manner that only she can, she replied: "Four thousand pounds a week, a maisonette overlooking the banks of the River Thames, and an authentic brass bedpan from the Victorian era."
"Tell them I'm still laughing" I howled derisively, understandably insulted by this offer.
And so began the tense diplomatic standoff between myself and Blogger.com. For three whole weeks, I held my nerve in the belief that their people would come back to my people with an improved offer.
True to expectations, they cracked first. Last night, just as I was preparing to bathe in a vat of champagne, Gertrude burst forth into my oak panelled bedsit in that hypnotic way that only she can.
"They're throwing in a year's supply of blue raspberry Slush Puppie!", she proclaimed, clearly excited.
Deal. Cock of the North.
posted by Paddy at 6:53 pm
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