Meet Dave. Dave is a prick. Dave is a stupid prick. Dave is not your average prick no Dave is a whole new species of prick. A super sonic mutated species of prick called Daviddusstupidus. He does no one any harm but when you see Dave you want to lamp him. It's not like he asks for a lamping it's just that he needs one. To be fair to him he don't need a slap but you just want to sit there and slap him - he's got that kinda face. Fook me if Mother Theresa of Calcutta, not sure why I put where she was from it's not like there was two of the old biddies knocking around. So yes even Mother T would want a piece of this bloke.

You don't believe me do you - well here's a little taster of the stupidity - the annoyance - the damn irritating - the excruciating auuurrrrhhhggggg - that is Dave.....

Right I might have built it up a little too much so lets calm it down slightly.

First of let me discibe ol' Dave. He's like a very hairy Hobbit type of bloke. He has this brown curly hair which looks like a mass of pubes from different people stuck with some chewing gum to his head and to emphasis the fact that he's a walking pube he has grown a beard and moose-stach (just to prove I know how to spell moustache - here it is moustache) but Dave has a moose-stach. And jumbo glasses I'm not against I'm not a glassist some of my best mates are Magoos but in this day and age do you really need them? Anyhoo Dave Magoo and his pubic face hair is a builder - a crack addicted Can we fix it fooker - yes we can tosser - Bob that's the little bastard Bob the fooking builder and his black and white cat - no hang on a jiffy cat belongs to Pat the postman Bob's got a...a...a...a big nose, fook knows, anyway Dave Magoo wears jumpers big old woolly ones. Brown woolly jumpers, that looks as though he himself knitted from a passing hamster. Brown woolly jumpers in the heat. Brown woolly fooking jumpers when the sun is blazing down upon the earth. I don't like brown woolly jumpers.

Again I digress he came into work on Sunday to do some bits and pieces. He tried to gain access to the building via a locked door - and? - you might ask. Well these doors are glass revolving doors. These glass doors have 2 very large cones placed inside the door. It's a Sunday and he thinks these doors should be opened. I pointed at the door which I can open he tried the other one then he tried the revolving door again I pointed to the door again he came to the door looked at me through the glass then pushed the door (there's a handle on the outside signalling that you pull) he looked at me again I tried to do a pulling action he walked to the revolving door - again. Did he think I transported myself to the doors and removed the cones opened the fooking doors whilst he was looking at me. After he done this several times I started to get a little pissed with him - foook me a drunken shaved monkey with one hand and a toupee could have done better. He finally cracked the code - thank fook he wasn't in charge of cracking the enigma code we'd all be eating Bratwurst for breakfast instead of Muesli !!! As soon as he came in I write the date in the folder so he could sign for a pass. He write along the same line as the date. When I explained what he done he said "I ain't with it this morn' " The fooker drove to work - how scary!! Then as I though I might be a little hard on the poor dear I opened the gate. He struggled for over a minuet with the turnstile - I had told him several times the gate is opened. THE MANS GETTING TO ME. He finally saw the gate and walked through.

After several minuets an alarm sounded. Duffelcoat Dave had opened a fire exit - god only knows why, he's the only one on site.... This would happen 5 times throughout the day...

After a couple of hours or so - Pubeface comes into reception. He's stood behind me for a couple minuets. I tried, with all the will power in the world not too look, but my skin started to recede, the hairs on the back of my neck pricked. I looked at him - "are the contractors that were here yesterday in today?" He looked worried. I replied no, asked why? Dave looked sad " they've half inched my black bin bags and a pot of varnish....." I was stunned. I explained that one of the fellas drove a top of the range Jag. The others have had long working relationship with the company - I don't think they'd nick your bin bags. "They're really thick ones"...........