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2002-12-20 - 1:40 p.m.

Rushrushrushand I don�t want to be the bazziliionth d�lander to write about their works� xmas shindig, but there�s precious little else happened this week. So last night was it, except I mean something more grammatical. The editorial dept, all three of us, are based in one building whilst the rest of the workers are based somewhere else entirely and we�ve never met them so in essence it was like going to someone else�s work shindig � i.e. complete guff.

The free bar did something to alleviate the pantsness of it, but I noticed there was a hierarchy to the drinks available. Some managers had red wristbands, which allowed them to order cocktails, others had sliver which allowed them to order foaming great bottles of champagne. I spotted gold ones, though god knows what that got you � a fragrant liqueur distilled from Britney Spear�s perspiration, perhaps. Doesn�t this seem a little demoralising for the workforce � some gurning corporate runt is worth a glass of pissy fucking champagne and I�m not? Well, I just write the fucker, so what do I know?

I drank a lot, danced to Ms Dynamite and left.

Happy corporate Christmas.

Speaking of which, how pathetic is it that Godspeed You! Black Emperor have provided songs for 28 Days Later, which is basically owned by Fox and you might as well just go and sodomise Rupert Murdoch personally, boys. Fight the power, indeed!

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