“What’s fucking wrong with ya?”

Those were the words ringing down Angus Bell’s phone line this afternoon.

“It’s one o’clock on a Friday afternoon, what the hell are you doing,” laughed Angus’s long term friend and pest Ben Thomas.

“Close ya laptop, and get to the fucking pub. Whatever shit you are supposedly working on can wait till Monday.”

The jovial two beer filled chat was met with a heavy sigh.

“Mate, you know I cannot just come to the pub,” sighed Angus with a hushed voice in his crowded office.

“I’ve got shit to do, and my boss isn’t that big a fan of me just leaving to go to the pub cause you need someone to drink with.”

Angus’s reasoning was then met with a carefully thought out and well articulated; “Burrrrrtttttttttt cunt.”

“Stop sooking and just come to the pub. Put me on the phone to your boss?”

It was at this point that Angus politely hung up on his shit talking mate, leaving him to begin calling through his close friends list to see if he could hassle someone into a beer.

“Fuck, he has every second Friday off, and he thinks that’s my problem,” laughed Angus to The Advocate a short time ago.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to go down to the pub and eat glass sandwiches.”

“But not all of us work in the public service or real estate.”

No more to come.


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