I was late into work this morning, something I haven't done (much) since I started here. Wandering up to the librarian's desk I burbled my apologies guiltily.
'Oh dear,' she said sympathetically. 'Wasn't the traffic awful?'
'Ah, no actually, it was grand, it was the stonking hangover and late bedtime that really tripped me up.' I scoffed in my usual witty manner.
WHAT?! For future reference, dork, when you have fucked up and someone offers you a get-out clause, you take it. When your boss does it, you grab it with both hands and stick it up your jumper. And run like hell.
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