I haven’t mentioned this before out of “respect” for the “gentleman” in question but after last night’s happenings, well I don’t care anymore. I have a stalker at work. A boy who comes around my desk and humps my chair and makes lewd comments and asks me if I want to come around to his house. He teases and attempts to manhandle me and I tell him to jog on and it’s all very primary school and rather embarrassing and definitely not the kind of approach that warms my little heart. It’s been going on for months. Picture this:
Stalker-Boy: Abbi, are you coming to the pub later?
Abbi: No, I’m going home.
Stalker-Boy: Shall I just come around to yours then?
Abbi: I’m busy, go away.
Stalker-Boy: Ok, I’ll see you later then. I know some things we can do.
Abbi: Seriously, I’m busy, please fuck off.
Stalker-Boy: I love you.
Abbi: I think you’re an idiot
So last night we had quiz night in aid of the fabulous children’s charity Barnardo’s (we raised £600, go us!). It was a pretty big work night out. There were 20 teams and a big chunk of the workforce turned out. I was on a team with Sam, Celine, Neil and Tom. All of us specialists in our fields (obscure indie bands, French things, Fantasy novels, computer parts and 80’s fashion) so we had high hopes of crushing the competition. Unfortunately the questions were on things like sport and space and angels (??) so we were a bit screwed. We didn’t do too badly on the round about Jacksons (Michael, Five and others) and it turned out my strength is French phrases used in English and movie villains. Oh and I was also the only person in my team that knew that a smurf is three apples tall. It turns out that our friends in the production team know possibly a little too much about serial killers, after scoring 9 out of 10 but good on them since they came 7th compared to our pitiful 12th. In our defence we started out with only five team members and one of our team members kept vanishing for long periods of time.
But this is not the main story. As we left the quiz, I headed down the stairs to the main bar to drown my sorrows with the rest of the team and was cornered by said-stalker who attempted to snog me. It was a no-holds-barred, open-mouthed lunge. I screamed bloody murder and shoved him off me, in a state of panic. The only way it could have been more embarrassing would have been if my boss was standing next to me… oh no, wait… he was.
Stalker-Boy then attempted to make amends by taking to the hotel piano and playing in “my honour”. He even attempted to compose a song about me on the spot. I suppose that bit was quite sweet and he actually wasn’t bad musically at all. But unfortunately by that point in time, I was so put off and annoyed that I walked away from the piano before he even finished.
I was home by midnight and geek that I am, I quickly iplayered Nick Griffin’s “performance” (I’m having an inverted commas day, aren’t I?) on Question Time. I’m not going to go into an analysis of his endlessly ridiculous racist and fascist comments and his inability to actually explain how any of his ludicrous policies would work in practise, but I’m glad to say that the man made himself look like an absolute idiot. He might be wise in future to check if any of the statements he’s made have been captured on video before denying that he actually made them. In the words of The King Blues: “They come to take away my liberties, but round here we nah want no stinkin’ BNP”!
Stalker-Boy has not come around to visit me today, wonder why? And if you work with me… don’t ask me who it is, cos if you don’t already know, I’m not telling you.