I am really quite pleased that the Webmaster asked me to start doing something different, bringing, as this undoubtabley will, my humouristic touch back to the forefront of human knowledge.

I should like to introduce Fat Bat, that Fat...person that I’ve been going on about for the last goodness knows how long, to the fore. Fat Bat is quite literally you’re worst nightmare in living, breathing flesh: its not that he’s exceptionally hard or anything, just that he behaves like such an absolute mong all the darned time. Thus he has a quite remarkable knack of getting on my nerves from the moment that he decides to open his mouth.
Fat Bat, The Lang, The Webmaster and I are all at school together. Now, you have no idea what it is like to be at school with such an imbecile as Fat. Every waking hour is incredible, excruciating torture. There are two things you should never, ever, ever, ever, get into a discussion with Fat about at any time whatsoever: The first is Football, which I believe, if memory serves, I have mentioned before. The second is women. Unfortunately I made the mistake this morning of mentioning both.

The day started as any normal one would, me strolling into school at my normal time. It was just beginning to warm up outside, the birds were singing, and the intriguing mist that seems forever to group over our school was just starting to slowly dissipate into the morning air, no doubt forming in the stratosphere a cloud that would later rain on me. Fat Bat is always in school when I get there. No matter how early or how late it is, he is always there. It’s like he lays in wait for me, ready to jump out with some inane comment from the foyer as I pass. This morning, Fat was wearing shorts, and a Man Utd T-shirt, both of which are a trying sight for any mere mortal at that hour in the morning.
"Allriought ‘Lex," He shouted at the top of his lungs as I hove into view (this is another of his weird habits, shouting at anything upwards of two millimetres away), "I see you’re in."
"No," I muttered under my voice, "I’m actually out." I sat down on a vacant chair, and Fat flopped down next to me, threatening at once the ability of both my temper and the chair's legs.
"What was that?" He said, punching me on the arm in the same place he has punched me every day for the last five years. Surely he must realise by now that his punches have no effect on me!
"Nothin’." I slid further down the chair in an effort to escape his unnerving stare.
"No, tell me." He said, shoving his face dangerously close to mine. I nudged him in the stomach, winding him.
"No, I won’t. It’s not as if it was an insult," I sighed with boredom. "I’m knackered."
"Oh yeah," He said, his remarkable one-track mind kicking into action. "Why? What have you been up to?"
"Nothing. I’ve just....had a lot on, that’s all." I replied, my brain befuddled from his last comment. "Anyway, how’s life?" I asked. I immediately regretted it.
"Well," He exclaimed in protruded tones, which usually indicates that there is a long story to come. I began to get frantic, looking around, twitching, for some vain hope of the survival of my sanity. I saw none. Fat continued. "You know, stuff."
I almost sang. He obviously had nothing in particular that he needed to actually say and instead had chosen to go down a different, ‘I’m gonna be as vague as I possibly can in one word’ route. I knew that if I kept pressing him, therefore, his feeble intellect would soon collapse under the strain of trying to understand more than two full sentences consecutively.
"What do you mean, stuff?" I retorted.
"You know.....stuff." I looked Fat square in the face (which I do not intend to do again) and delivered the coupe de grace.
"But," I said in slow, deliberate tones, "What do you mean, stuff?" Fat’s eyes glazed over, and a vacant look spread over his face.
"Well...." He trailed off into nothing and left the foyer peaceful once more. I breathed a sigh of relief, and continued with my life again, as the man known as Monkey in these parts stalked through the door of the foyer.
"Alright Alex." He grunted, as is traditional.
"Alright Nick," I uttered, for that was in fact his name. I mean, c’mon people, it is just slighty rude to call someone Monkey to their face!!
"Fat in?" Nick questioned, looking fearfully around him.
"Yeah - he’s behaving like an absolute mong this morning already and its only.." I paused to look down at my watch. "8 o’clock." I sighed. It was going to be a long, long day.

Dear faithful readers,

I am most apologetic that the above first episode of "Today at the office" doesn’t actually contain all the data regarding a whole week (in fact, it doesn’t even cover one day, but that’s beside the point). I am very much aware of this fact, and would wish to bring to the humble reader’s attention that this is in fact only the aforementioned first edition, and as such is only really scene setting. I decided that if I actually covered a whole week the thing would be so huge and overwheming that you all may not be able to take it in without the need to have a fifteen minute break complete with a stiff drink after every paragraph. Thus you’re net bills, rather like the receipts that Fat Bat runs up at Burger King when having his ‘elevenses’, would continue to expand in price. I did not wish to be held responsible for the huge phone bills of the whole lot of you, and so I did not actually finish the full day or week off. I am sorry if it is a bit of a lame ending. I’ll do better next time, I promise. Have mercy.

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