Bloody hell, I tell thee what, I'm sick to death of working in this sausage-fest of an office. I mean, fair play to all the lads, they're a good bunch and all, but sometimes a bit of eye candy would be nice, you know what I mean?

But I reckon the boss man is on some sort of crusade to create his own bloody YMCA tribute band. I mean, come on, mate, it's 2021, not 1981. I don't know what he's trying to prove, but I'm not interested in that whole gay thing.

Plus, the boss is a proper tosser. He's got a temper on him like a bloody bull in a china shop. I swear, if he doesn't sort himself out, he's going to have a heart attack or something. He's always screaming and shouting over the tiniest little thing, like if someone forgets to sharpen a pencil or something. I reckon he's got some real mental issues, to be honest.

But what can I do, eh? Work is hard to come by these days, thanks to all those immigrants taking our jobs. I mean, I don't want to sound like a bigot or owt, but it's true, innit? They come over here, taking all our work, and then we're left scrabbling around for scraps like a bunch of hungry seagulls.

Anyway, that's my rant over. I'm off for a brew cuz I need one after my long day staring at men in the office :/ #HardWork #GayBoss