A wee pearoast
I used to work in a large IT office. Now I just work in a small IT office, but that's progress for you.

Anyway, the desks were grouped together in groups of 4. Everyone, for reasons unknown, had their own individual waste bin positioned just behind their desks. This information will become pertinent to this tale. You have been warned.

My desk looked over onto another bank of 4 desks, and Ken, my supervisor, sat at one of these desks.

Ken was a strange guy. Quite likeable, but could talk the arse off a donkey. Not really much of an IT mind it has to be said, or indeed a supervisor for that matter. He was quite a nervous chap, and would often scurry about the office, sheet of paper in hand, trying desperately to look busy.

One day he pushed back from his desk, stood up from his chair, turned round - sheet of paper in hand - and proceeded to hurtle up the office.

So far so good. Sadly for Ken, his foot not only made contact with his bin, but his foot actually went INTO his bin, catching his foot and sending him cartwheeling up the office. He was quite a tall, thin bloke, and the sight of his long gangly arms and legs spinning and whirring wildly as he vaulted like Hugo Sanchez between the desks was a memory that I will always savour.

Everyone, almost to a man, put hands to mouth and gasped "Oh Ken, are you alright?" etc. Except for one man. The man now pissing himself at his desk. The man now typing this tale.

Oh Ken. I'm sorry I laughed. But it was funny as fuck.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Tue 27 Jul 2010, 13:30, Reply)