Consultants to Imaginary Friends

I think I’ve figured out why footballers and football managers are paid so bloody much – every man jack of them is a consultant – they’re on a contract, therefore they must be. That makes them as bad as the buggers who have plagued business for so long. My solution is for the directors to wait till the contracts run out and then offer them permanent work on minimum wages.

Hay has started to wrap the cheese in greaseproof paper. I suspect this is part of a dastardly plot to ensure she can hear the crackle of paper when I conduct commando raids on the fridge at night.

I hear Manchester City Council is getting rid of 2,000 staff. That should reduce the Facebook and Twitter traffic considerably and possibly enable the council to reduce its internet bandwidth.

Apparently the Pope is lobbying for a resurgence in baptismal Christian names, rather than people naming their kids after a wine, a place they went for their holiday or a character from Lord of the Rings. A contender is Saint Wilgefortis from the 14th Century, who took a vow of virginity when she was promised in marriage by her father. Following her prayers for help, she grew a beard and moustache. I think it much more likely that she reached 50 and it occurred naturally.

There’s a study taking place in the UK concerning the age at which children start to lose their imaginary friends. It’s strange that if a child grows up and retains their imaginary friend then we call them deranged – unless of course they’re religious, in which case we call them pious.