Tweeter is good for something.
According to one of the recent posts which the Guardian bombards me with on a seemingly hourly basis, I discovered in the Politics Blog that: 'The prime minister, 58, has hurled pens and even a stapler at aides, according to one; he also says he once saw the leader of Britain's 61 million people shove a laser printer off a desk in a rage.'
Though I struggle to see what that fact that he's 58 has to do with it (except perhaps to insinuate that he's a tad too old for such childish outporing of rage) if he would like to come to visit the Pedantic offices I would be very happy to give him a Canon printer that he could kick to his heart's content.
Indeed, the new printer, as the wise men and soothsayers of Corvus upstairs anticipated, is not the new Messiah but a false idol who nevertheless requires some fairly slavish worship. Like a spoiled toddler it expects constant attention and is liable to throw tantrums when you are busily trying to get on with your work. When printing out a large document don't even think about pressing PRINT and walking away and forgetting about your document. On the contrary, you must get up from your desk and go and stand beside the machine in a suitably servile manner, head bent in supplication as you wait for pages to be delivered from the mouth of the giant because, approximately every 150 pages or so, the paper jams. This means getting on your knees and giving the machine an extensive proctological examination.
This is the stuff career dreams are made off. I'm sure the Prime Minister, 'leader of Britain's 61 million people,' feels my pain when he can't get a sodding document to print.
