The loafer has upped his game of slippery subterfuge by pulling a sickie to have an extra day preparing for an internal job interview.

A possible promotion! Who said being an idler doesn’t pay as long as you grunt in the right intervals and play the nodding dog?

Pull this one off he’ll be challenging Olivier for title of Britain’s greatest actor. He sails on negating the small matter that he’s a) never here and b) does the minimum amount of work.

I sense the work of the Sith behind this, young padawans. Be wary. Darth Sloth is about to emerge from the shadows.

 

I went into the store cupboard yesterday and who rose out of the gloom like the Prince of Darkness himself but the office’s resident loafer. He said he was ‘resting’ on the floor for a few minutes because he had back ache.

Back ache from what? Watching too many World Cup matches on the trot like some beached sea cucumber.

I’d heard of his work siestas but couldn’t believe it until I found his new subterranean nest complete with a rolled up t-shirt for a pillow.

He followed it up the next morning by ringing in saying he’d hurt his leg jogging the night before and couldn’t come in. Hurt his leg? I’d tie a pork chop to his ankle and throw him in the crocodile pond at London Zoo. I bet it would be working fine then.

Ah well, his antics do raise a smile for this office rat. At least we don’t have to worry about covering his workload as he does sweet FA apart from thinking up ever elaborate ways of dodging work.

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