My non-spotless mind

At certain times of month I am prey to recurring daydreams with a violent edge, which are alarming to experience yet somehow impossible to resist, as they have a subversive quality which I quite enjoy.

For example. I used to work for a little publishing company in a house on a hill. It was bought by a bigger publishing company, and gradually it became apparent that all decisions were being made by people sitting in offices in Amsterdam or, at best, in Soho. They knew nothing of the effects of these decisions on the daily lives of people in the house on the hill and nor -- an important lesson in life -- did they care. They did not give a shit about us. The only thing they gave a shit about was the bottom line.

Well of *course* they didn't care, comes the chorus. They were sales people in suits. But it did come as a bit of a shock, because I was young and idealistic, and I *did* care.

And the daydream went like this. I would stare out of my office window into the garden, and then suddenly I would run out the door, behind the hedge and take all my clothes off. Then I would run round and round the garden, leaping like a gazelle and shouting 'Arse to the lot of you! Arse to the lot of you!'.

The entire company would crowd round the garden facing windows, and my friends would be sent out to try and talk me down. I would ignore them, and carry on leaping and shouting. Eventually, Joan the receptionist would come out with a tranquilliser gun and shoot me in the buttock. She would then throw a net over me and drag me back behind the hedge where my clothes were.

I would of course get the sack, but my point would be made.

joella