Time for anarchy ?

 

Great, so we just need to smuggle some angry drugs into rice fields... and all's according to plan...

If it's anarchy, there won't be any leaders. That's rather the point.

This is like French Revolution to me... and I most definitely do not want Chinese Napoleon to take over.

 

 

 

      (Anarchy is working, Mr. Shirking)

 

 

Tell me about it ! But I don't suffer hardship gladly, if at all !

When on those rare occassions I still attend a Board Meeting, I make sure that the Senior Partner's secretary stocks the board room liquor cabinet with booze a'plenty !  We'll start with an 80 year od Macallan as a sharpener ( although latterly I have found that a fine cuvee Champagne suits my temperament a smidge better ),and then crack open a few bottles of a very fine claret.  We'll have a bite of lunch ( cold pheasant goes very well with a good claret ), cold truffles on hot toast does very well next, and I might finish on some lightly boiled plovers egg chopped up in mayonnaise ( I recomend a nicely chilled white Burgundy, or even a Pouilly Fumee, with that ).  If I wish for a dessert, I am always very fond of raspberries freshly picked no longer than 12-14 hours beforehand. I always find that a good Hungarian Tokay makes a cracking good dessert wine.Some people might have a glass of Cointreau lightly drizzled over their raspberries, but I say, What the Hell ! and drown the buggers in Benedictine (such decadence ! ).  A fine Montecristo and a Napoleon brandy( at least 40 years old ! ) will do to end the proceedings nicely, although if I can find a suitable secretary who is up for it, I always like to close the days business with a good shag in the Director's flat upstairs.

 Ideally, if I remember to sign a few letters and vote on the board meeting, I can then claim my director's board meeting expenses of 500 smackers per diem.

I tell you, all this hard work will be the death of me !

 

Probably because you are too pissed to tell the difference !  Mind you, I may be wrong - when I was in Dublin last Autumn, I was the only person drinking Guinness and everybody else in the pub was drinking tonic or water or OJ.

Admittedly there were one or two hardened drinkers standing outside in the pouring rain with the water lapping over their boots ( those of them that could afford shoes, that is ), but even they were spending more time keeping their fags dry than getting booze down their necks ! When I went and asked the barmaid as to why so little good, honest alcohol was being consumed, she told me that most people worked for American firms nowadays and their bosses smell their breaths upon their return to work. Bejasus, it's a sad state of bloody affairs when a Irishman is put off his drink by nothing more than the threat of being fired !