No news is good news.

When I left the house yesterday morning I was bathed in glorious sunshine, I made a mental note to finish early and get some serious sunbathing done in the back garden. I like to relax now and again, drink a tin or two and just spend time thinking. I hadn’t gone far when I saw a bloody great black cloud the size of the Home Counties slowly making its way toward Manchester like the mother ship in “Independence Day”.

Typical, oh well scrub mental note and don work mindset instead, not easy to do when you hate work, well not hate it but it gets so boring. Hardly anything happens at Karting2000 which is why I wasn’t looking forward to updating the newsletter. I sat in the office staring at the walls desperately trying to come up with something that was mildly interesting. I thought about making something up, but you always get found out, unless of course you’re a tabloid newspaper then you can lie through your eye teeth and get away with it.

I decided to join the smokers outside in the sun, which had made an appearance again, I sat on the grassy knoll outside in the car park listening to them moan about being second class citizens because of the smoking ban. The sun was glorious again, it was warm, and bees were buzzing around the flowers under the trees. Time slipped by but try as I might I couldn’t think of anything even remotely newsworthy.

I called a mini meeting with Christine and Helen in the office who are supposed to have their fingers on the pulse so to speak and begged them to come up with something, anything even remotely interesting that I could perhaps pad out a little. They promised to get down to it and said they would get back to me ASAP. Well they didn’t, so I came up with something myself, gave them both a copy, asked them to check it for factual mistakes and left them to it.

An hour or so later I went to back to collect my copy and asked them what they thought, “Mmmmm very good, well done” said Christine whilst stuffing a bacon sarni in her mouth. “Yes, like it, knew you would think of something,” said Helen not even looking up, too busy with her MP3 player. “You think its ok then, not too far-fetched”, I looked her right in the eyes. “No, no its great, straight to the point, informative good news letter material” she lied.

This is what I had written:

Booking clerk Helen Moor disclosed today that she will never dance again after a horrendous accident involving a fork lift truck, a low loader with spectacle lift and a fully dressed Christmas tree. Speaking through tears after a double big toe amputation she said. “It was my own fault”. I was dazzled by the bright lights and as I stepped back to admire my work I tripped on the spectacle lift the guy had dropped to get a better look and before I knew it I had been forked from behind”. A spokesman for the hospital said that “the toes had been sheared off at the knee, Helen underwent several hours of micro surgery on both toes which were successfully re attached, but to the wrong legs”. When he was asked how that had happened the spokesman replied “Hey, it was a Friday, a busy day for us, unfortunately we only had one hit at this so we cant swap em back”.
Helen is currently on sick leave recuperating at home and spends most of her time looking through shoe catalogues. We wish her luck.

Police were called into the track earlier in the week to investigate the disappearance of two cases of black puddings and a case of instant custard from the pit-stop café. There were no signs of a forced entry, but despite inconclusive evidence they arrested Christine the office manager who was the only person with a key and who has a history of black pudding abuse going back to her days as a butcher in the merchant navy. “This has to be an inside job,” said the detective leading the case, we have sent a blouse with suspicious yellow stains to the lab for analysis, along with a black pudding knife discovered in the suspects pencil drawer. Bail has been set at fifty pence; friends are rallying round and hope to come up with the money before the trial date.

The managing director is still trying to get to the bottom of a mystery that has saddened us all. Shaking his head in disbelief at an emergency meeting held today with all employees, he demanded to know who it was that had left a log the size of a small dingy in the gents toilets. This is no accident he remonstrated, this was a wilful act of deficitus terrorism and I mean to root it out. The whole affair stinks of an inside job and my nose tells me the gents were targeted to throw us off the scent. It’s rumoured that the MD and the police are getting their heads together on this one.

Just shows you how much notice they take of me, I have a good mind to post it on the website.