Though it may seem that I am on a fierce mission to remove every suggestion of principled or ethical behaviour from my person, I must tell you that I occasionally give way and reveal my soft centre. I always cry at the Concern ads on the telly, for instance. Well, once. And I was slightly tipsy at the time. And I feel REALLY bad lying to winos when they ask me do I have a spare cigarette. Really. Today though I was stretched to the outer limits of my moral... well, limits. On my way out to buy my lunch I stumbled across a crisp orange fifty Euro note on the landing. Though I am almost always broke (and not infrequently drunk- the two are related only vaguely), I did not keep the booty* but instead handed it in to the surly receptionist at our front desk. 'Oh. Thanks.' she muttered, pocketing the note. The bitch probably kept it for herself. Slag.
See? Incorruptible, so I am.
*Only after a lengthy struggle with my inner demons. 'Take it! they screamed, 'you can get druuuunk!' 'No!' squealed my conscience, 'it is wrong!' In the end I ignored them all and reasoned that it could be some kind of horrible Candid Camera prank and I would be shamed nationwide as a theiving pinchpenny. That, my friends, is called 'logical thinking'.