The collective pallor of our workplace has taken on battleship grey as the first round of job cuts trundles over the horizon with its cleavers banging around in the back of the truck.

There is a listless air about the place like a ship caught in dead calm.

Biscuit consumption has risen, tempers are paper thin and there is some irritating person whose emigrating to Oz next week and delights in telling us how sorry she feels for us all.

Yup and I’ll be feeling sorry for her when that funnel-web spider bites her on the arse unless the box jellyfish or salt water crocodile gets in there first.

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