Yesterday evening's boredom was nicely punctuated by the appearance in my office of a deranged Englishwoman intent on denouncing the Irish race. Sadly, I missed it because I was downstairs, but I've been told that the interloper charged in and headed for my colleague Macca, shouting something about the Irish being a 'bunch of bastards', and that she was being constantly 'touched up' on Dublin's streets. She didn't seem to understand that our office wasn't really the place to make xenophobic complaints, and only left after further abuse prompted Macca to understandably lose the rag, and shout 'Get out' at her.

This kind of stuff only seems to happen when I'm not in the office, sadly. Like the man last week, who, after being told that we don't in fact have any information on Zambia, came back an hour later to ask if we had any information on Zambia. At least I'll always have the memory of the man who farted at me while I was giving him a train timetable...