Gosh. This place is falling dangerously quiet, huh?
I do have an excuse, though. I'm currently in the middle of a hideous chain-reaction of ever more horrifying catastrophes at the office. I haven't been this dumbfounded by the degree to which things can go off the rails since I was asked to teach algebra to kids who recoiled in horror at the thought of multiplication.
It looks like I've put a lid on the chaos, though. Just. Who knows what will burst into flames once more the instant I've left for Christmas. Surely it can't be as bad as what happened last week, when our external expert revealed a shift in position meant he was no longer external, and that on careful reflection his field is too far from ours for him to constitute an expert. Like hiring a stripper for a stag do (I hear stories), and finding out she won't take off her underwear. And she's your sister.
Oh, and you only have three days to find another stripper, or the wedding's off. Some people have the strangest pre-nups...