F.A.B…

It’s been the world’s worst kept secret round the office but I only bloody well went and got the job didn’t I… Yours truly is now a permanent Thunderbird! Life on Tracy Island is still pretty damn good even if they have decreed that I now start at 07:15 in the mornings. Ugh. My alarm went off at 05:30 today and I felt like Hugh Grant in ‘Four Weddings’ with the amount of expletives issuing forth in hushed tones so as not to wake my housemates. Tracy Island is exceptionally busy at the moment and so part of my role has been to play car park tetris with a range of visitors cars. It’s nice and easy in the morning when they come on site and it’s my job to make them park their own cars in increasingly tight spaces, the problems start when the people who are tightly blocked in need to get out.

I was at my desk guarding the fort asking ‘Halt! Who goes there?’ and generally being base guard dog when a gent popped up in reception and asked whether I could possibly move the cars blocking him in, so far so simple. Until I grabbed the three sets of keys off my desk and wandered outside to see three gleaming cars parked so tightly they looked like they were glued together. Not only that but they all had those silly new fangled keyless go things that I had not a clue how to use. First up was a new Volkswagen Passat 2.0 that compared to my little Yaris chariot felt like being sat at the controls of a jumbo jet without a pilot’s licence. I hate to live up to girlie stereotypes but oh my god I just didn’t have a clue how to make the fecking thing start and so I sat there getting more and more flustered as various Thunderbirds wandered past and had a giggle. Eventually after five or more mortifying minutes of being sat behind the wheel of the car praying to anyone that would listen I manage to get the engine started and popped it into reverse. Only it wasn’t reverse it was first and before I knew it the bloody thing jolted forward stopping only mere millimetres away from the rear end of a brand new shiny shiny Merc. Thank fuck for that. Realising that I was potentially about to cause an ‘incident’ with a mega expensive car one of my colleagues took pity on me and banished me back to answering phones, a fact I was bloody grateful for. If ever you’re feeling a bit too grown up and you want to go back to the carefree innocence of being a kid again, just go out and sit in a big brand new spangled car – I literally felt like a kid whose feet wouldn’t reach the pedals.

Once I’d been removed to a safe distance from anything shiny and expensive I grabbed my sangers and headed up to the lounge for a break from answering the phone. I’d just sat down and taken a bite of my lunch when, the phone rang. This time I was quite excited to answer though as on the other end was none other than Mr Greg James from Radio One…! To demonstrate how much of a dizzy mare I am, my opening gambit was “Ooh you sound just like you”, to which he replied, “That’s because I am me”. Oh I am so smooth. Pro-Smoothie is my middle name, non?

You’re probably all wondering why Greg James was calling me yes? Because secretly we’re best friends and we braid each others hair and have tea parties with the world’s most expensive teddy bear obviously! Actually I thought it might be funny to ask him if he fancied coming along to the Midsomer Murders thing and so he called me today and we discussed it. I was a bit too excited to remember what I said but I’ve been reliably informed it’s just been played on Radio One so you can scooch over to their site and listen to me make an absolute dick of myself. AMAZEBALLS. I’m torn between wanting to listen to it and wanting to never ever ever hear it mentioned every again because I bet I sound like an utter wanker. Ho hum!!

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