SNAP back to reality.
Anyway, we've got this guy at work. He's a fat greasy fork tongued scheming lazy thieving scally, the kind that asked us to deny all knowledge of his existence to anyone identifying themselves as Vladimir, Big Tam, or an agent of Her Majesty's Inland Revenue[2], who slacked like a trouper from day one, always with excuses ready to hand. In the past, we've caught him swiping hippycode, stripping the copyrights and trying to pass it off as his own, when it took about 30 seconds to google on some of the painfully obvious originalAnd_Idiomatic_symbolsInIt to find the source. He slimed his way out of that one, and has buck passed and hand waved his way around delivering, so far as I can determine, anything at all in the two years he's been here.
He's leaving on Friday.
To become a minister in the Church of Jockland.
He is, needless to say, my new god.
[1] I'm not naked; the bowl of cherries adds sufficient artistic merit to render me nude.
[2] Two out of three of these are 100% Certified True.
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