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Au revoir, Madame

cof

Evelyne.
She has been my boss for the last nine years.  A great boss. Not a micro-manager, but an enabler. And always available to back you up, when some corporate muscle was needed.
The reason why the Mistake Factory was bearable is the fact that I have a great team, and that I reported directly to a great manager.

Except that on 6 December, “Madame” became my ex-manager.

The higher echelons of the Mistake Factory decided that she would be a perfect fit for Operation Transformation (from employed to unemployed).

Six months down the line, a couple of cells in a spreadsheet will look not quite right. Alarm bells will be rung. Stakeholders will be summoned. Corporate hot air tanks will be readied for yet another deep dive. Black belts and kimonos will fill a conference room for some serious kaizen extravaganza of gourmet sandwiches and insipid ideas, hot coffee and cold logic.

People will wonder why those couple of cells in the spreadsheet do not look quite right. Not quite right at all.

They will by then have forgotten that Evelyne is gone. That she is no longer doing the nurturing that makes happy cells in a spreadsheet.

Carlos meanwhile is contemplating his impending colonoscopy (9 days to go)

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Finnzy-Bob is eight years old today.
And how much he has grown in the last year. Undoubtedly due to his big appetite. For food. And for life.

He is seen here sporting his brand new Equipe de France track suit.
He has forgiven them for the distress they caused him last summer. I remember vividly how he broke into tears when Portugal scored during extra time.
The rest of us were a lot more philosophical about it.

He is big into his football this year. Trying to help Cabinteely Park Celtic lose less convincingly week after week.

As a supporter, he is not fanatical about a specific club, and pragmatic in his willingness to embrace any club with have a chance of winning something. Anything. This means an eclectic mix of jerseys in the washing machine on any given Monday.

The art of sitting on the fence is a useful one Finn. And one is never too young to master it.

You are a fine little chap, with the blond mane that flies in the wind as you run around the place.

Singing your smelly kangaroo song.

And we love you very much.

Except when you play that YouYoube video of the eedjit with the three bananas chasing his sausage dog while singing Tequila.

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Huit

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48 hours on, and Peter was still finding it hard to believe that Andrex were really having a 16-for-the-price-of-10 family pack offer.

Was this blatant lack of business acumen sustainable?
Or perhaps there was a catch…

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Struggling to come to grips with reality

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Someone pass me the bucket

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An in-depth analysis of the 2016 US election by mememe2U

There is a majority of people in society who fit into at least one of these categories: angry, disillusioned, scared, moronic, misogynistic, believing in fairy tales. Some truly gifted specimens fit them all.
The majority of the adult population are eligible to vote in the US (of A)
A large proportion of angry people voted
Someone was democratically elected yesterday in the US (of A)

Reality TV, lazy journalism and Facepuke (both supporters and opponents) made he-who-shall-not-be-named omnipresent. 

Vox populi has spoken. 
The alternative is a coup by the multicutural, egalitarian, so-called educated middle-class, to put an enlightened despot in place, someone who will know best what’s good for society at large (with its inconvenient large proportion of neds/skangers/rednecks). But let’s face it, we are better equipped for rolling sushi or reviewing Ken Loach fillums than go on a rampage with AK47s for the greater good. 

So, what can we say? That democracy is beautiful. Too beautiful to make accessible to everyone?   
 
Now, where did I put that bucket of sand, see if my head will fit in it for the next four years. Possibly eight (there’s bound to be a war/terror situation in three years’ time that will further boost the scared vote). 

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No, make that Ecstatic Meal.
Happy doesn’t half convey the atmosphere of sheer merriment that permeated McD at lunchtime today.

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Happy meal

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“Our Father, who art in Heaven. Let not this modest abode run out of toilet paper. Ever. Blessed be thy name. Amen”

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Bog scroll

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