11:01 am, December 19, 2014
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the site,
Nothing was selling, there wasn’t a bite.
The price boards were hung on the cars with due care
In the hope that a customer soon would be there.
The salesmen were nestled all snug at their desks,
While visions of upselling danced in their heads.
And the boss in his seasonal tie and I in my shiny shoes,
All we wanted was to pack up and get on the booze.
When in my head arose a clever idea,
I sprang from my desk and shouted loud and clear…
Away to the office I flew like a flash:
‘Boss, we need to do something – I can smell gas!’
The phone to my ear with my made-up gas leak
I pretended to call 999 and began to speak:
‘We have a big problem, what should we do mate?
‘They said, we must leave, before it’s too late!’
With my gullible boss, so stupid and thick
I knew in a moment I had to think quick
I told him we simply had ‘no time to check
Just get out – and pronto – you must save your neck!’
‘Now Dave! Now Stuart! Now Steven and Andy!
On, Sarah! On, Nigel, on Chloe and Mandy!
To the pub all of you, this place is about to blow!
Now dash away! Dash away! We all have to go!’
Make no mistake, I knew exactly what to do.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll wait for the gas man, I’m right behind you.’
Off they all walked to the pub through the snow,
As I waited for the imaginary gas man to show.
I gave it 20 cold minutes before I went on my way,
Telling my boss, ‘We shouldn’t go back for the rest of the day.
‘It will take him that long to fix it with his gear.’
The boss thanked me for the heads-up and bought me a beer.
The boss said: ‘We’re here now, so might as well stay.’
So we remained in the pub for the rest of the day.
Drinking and laughing like it was Christmas Day already –
After my seventh pint I got to my feet, a little unsteady.
Burping and swaying from the ‘Christmas spirit’
I made a toast to all that could hear it.
‘Right, I’m going back to lock up the site.
Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!’
