The Death of the Lunchtime Pint

The UK went up its own arse a few years ago, and became a nation ruled by the fear of paying the mortgage. Losing your job means losing your home, so people keep their mouth shut and follow the Draconian rules trotted out by HR departments in order to feel comfortable.

Having an opinion that differs from what is considered PC will end up in a meeting with some moron who thinks social engineering bullshit, is better than a free and democratic society.

The number one rule that I resent is the prohibition of alcohol, and the resultant sneering at the culture of nipping out for a pint...a single pint...over lunch. Alcohol is social grease, it helps people unwind, it makes work less stressful and it can overcome numerous problems that happen when people, for some reason, think a joke was serious and get butthurt over it. Sitting together as a group of workmates and having a pie and a pint is just the best way of forging bonds etc.

Yes I appreciate that doctors and people working heavy machinery etc should not partake of the alcohol, but if you're a back office worker whose job is mind-numbingly dull yet frightfully easy (have done a few myself), then where is the harm in having a single pint at lunchtime? Creative industries would thrive if people could sip a solo glass of wine over a nice lunch, and just talk. Plus it helps if the boss isn't seen as somebody with a rod up their backside, because you're then much happier to take them problems and suggested solutions, and they know enough about you to make an informed judgement when offering assistance.

As always these rules do not apply at the upper echelons of society, where you can get shit-faced on expensive wines over lunch, because you're working at the golf course that afternoon 'networking' or something equally insulting to the concept of the 6 figure pay packet you collect.

Tales from Skyrim

Skyrim. The northern most country on the continent of Tamriel. Populated by Nords, basically Viking types. The video game Skyrim is set in the aforementioned continent (natch).

This is my character, sat upon my his fine steed...Mr. Sugarlumps.


Notice I am a High-Elf, Altmer, dressed in my finest Elven armour, looking very swish and superior. I like to strut around as a God amongst mortals :D
Knowing all about Skyrim's politics as you do, you're probably aware that the Altmer are part of the Thalmor and the Nords don't like them very much. With this in mind, it was rather entertaining to be allowed to Waltz into the court of Ulfric Stormcloak (chief Nord freedom fighter) in Windhelm without an eyelid even flickering. I was then able to engage in conversation with Ulfric and join his little revolution, and was entrusted with valuable mission data that could have allowed the Thalmor to destroy Ulfric totally with very little effort. Only one minor character thought to sneer "Elf" at me as I walked past.

Another little spot, I do like how my house in Windhelm, still has the bloodstains all over it from an earlier quest scenario involving lots of brutal murder in there! You'd think the steward would have cleaned it for me at some point during the redecoration. Yes, I do like to show my guests "murder corner," where lots of women have been dismembered. Then I wheel out the truckle bed and let them sleep over the gore stains. I find it stops unwelcome relatives from making repeat visits.

To add a little background...A sad moment occurred last night...They...they...Those fucking Forsworn (another faction)...They killed Mr. Sugarlumps!


I spent the next few hours systematically exterminating them without mercy. It's what he would have wanted, after a paradisical carrot.