Is one of my favouritest rejoinders. That and what Churchill says when a society dame accuses him of being drunk.
Also, another morning of bipolar activity in the office has just passed with a pretty good chance of a similar afternoon to follow. The intensity of work fluctuates madly: there are long periods of mind-numbing boredom when one's eyelids are just so heavy and hot and leaden, and then just when your head is about to slam onto your keyboard and print a line of b's a mile long, your boss phones and asks you if you ever did 'x'. As you say impatiently, "Yes, of course I did...", the horrible realisation that you didn't dawns and the sweating and stammering starts and mental pictures of penury, workhouses and ragged children crying over a coffin start to flash by. When you have a memory as bad as mine, these things can happen and it turns out you did do 'x' after all so everything is OK but the boss is a little shaken and he has to tell his boss that he was misinformed etc etc which is about as exciting as things get around here.
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