Glastonbury preparations begin

The sun is shining today in W14, but don't let that fool you. With Glastonbury only 2 nights sleep away excitement is building in the office for the lucky few heading down. However, rain has been promised by the gods so preparations have been doubled to make sure feet and pants stay dry and faces remain smiling throughout. Craig 'experienced festivaler' Jones is heading down to Worthy Farm for his 413th Glastonbury and this year he has found what he personally describes as 'the ultimate festival weapon'. Testing was undertaken this morning to confirm this claim and we can now exclusively reveal that these simple pair of waterproof jeans will increase happiness levels in rain by 89%.

TEST 1: What would happen if someone pours a beer in your pocket?


TEST 2: What would happen when it really chucks it down? (Dave and Jono repolicate Glasto showers)


TEST 3: What would happen if it continues to rain all weekend? (Dave and Arj replicate the Saturday afternoon shower)


TEST 4: If you spill beer down yourself could you quickly collect it before it hits the ground?



So, in conclusion, if you see Craig at Glastonbury feel free to throw beer all over him. He won't mind at all.

Ow! My Bleedin' Knee

Sidney here, with more cycling related mishaps.
One of the problems of whizzing your way through the streets of London on a couple of bits of lightweight aluminum, is that when cars either don't bother to indicate in front of you, or just sort of STOP in front of you for no apparent reason, it's kinda difficult to STOP too, without falling off, especially if you're wearing stupid clip-in shoes.
And that's what happened to me.



So, Mr Blue Mini Driver who's a bit too friendly with the brake pedal and who thinks it's OK to suddenly STOP in the middle of the road without warning, and who thinks it's OK when a rather gangly bloke disappears from your rearview mirror with a 'Arrrgggghhh' and doesn't bother to STOP again to find out if he's alright, your card is well and truly marked.
May bad Karma really screw up your day.
And my knee, now a bit cleaner and a little less bloody, is really stinging and is now sticking to my jeans.
Nice.

Sorry David - Cameron Nearly Comes A Cropper

Now don't get all MI5 on us and start your waterboarding nonsense, but we have a little breach of security to admit to involving one shadow leader David Cameron.

There was planner Jono, firm of thigh and tight of buttock, grinding away through Hyde Park on his two wheeled steed.
Bobbing in and out of the more conservative (!) cyclists, desperate to get into KarmaKorner as quickly as possible (what with it being such a fab place to work and all), when he just about bolted headlong into some familiar looking geezer coming the other way.
The one and only housewives' favourite, Mr David blooming Cameron.
Mr C was heard to shout out in surprise, but we're delighted to say that this respectful civil servant wasn't potty mouthed, just a bit taken aback with a 'Whoa Whoa Whoa!'.
You read it here first if this becomes part of Conservative debating strategy in the next PM question time.
Also, Big Dave was on his lonesome, with no steroid-friendly security getting in the way, so top respect there.
Naughty Jono, having seen a few moody films of prison life in his time, pleaded 'Sorry David' as he sped past.
So we'd like to also offer a heartfelt apology to Mr C, who's clearly got enough on his plate and doesn't need some spikey haired Bournemouth boy giving him jip.
But if Denmark's third favourite UK agency is closed down in the next week or so, you all know why.

The Day The Mobile Died

Poor Tom.
Once the proud owner of a circa 1998 mobile phone.
It had seen him through thick and thin, creative drought and copy fertility.
Bringer of messages both happy and sad.
Texter of messages both blunt and cryptic.
Held together by sellotape and affection.
But now it's dead.
Gone.
Karked it.
Brown bread.
And in a fittingly formal ceremony, Tom read out an emotive eulogy to a gathered audience of people who really had nothing better to do that sunny afternoon.
And then, it was buried in our delightful garden, next to the remains of the chipmunk and Craig's treasure chest of mucky mags.
So, if you pop by and take some rays in our garden, be sure to pay your respects.
And give Tom a hug.
But don't expect a call from him anytime soon.