Revenge Of The Snurds

No humour column published this week. Couple of news stories similarly spiked. I know what Luke Skywalker would do in this situation. Time is running into treacle. Strolling through Dublin yesterday in gentle February sunshine, I wondered could I be happy without the job. That old gag. The next big meeting, or snurds reunion as we might more appropriately call it, is scheduled for next week. Strategy number one is not to immitate the Scottish managing director's voice. Strategy number two is not to call him "wee slickit cowerin timorous beastie." Strategy number three is not to refer to the gormless wick witted scrote faced editor as anything other than the editor. After that I've got nothing. I'm just making it up as I go along.