So, we opened the floodgates and let our readers ask us questions about us. Not only was this utterly terrifying, we also found ourselves having to reveal certain truths about our operation that, hitherto, had not… hithered. To. Whatever, you’ll find out a little bit more about us today. Whether that’s a good thing or not is open to mass debate.
DOREEN: WHAT’S IT LIKE BEING A PROFESSIONAL MORON?
Ah, we get this question a lot! Well, imagine this. You awake one morning and decide to go for a walk. Outside you waltz, stark bollock naked, inadvertently into the world’s worst hurricane as you didn’t check the weather forecast.
You return a week later via search and rescue helicopter delivery, apologise for your error to the beleaguered crew, then steal the helicopter at gunpoint and try to fly it to the Moon, fail, and plummet back to Earth onto your neighbour’s house.
Principally, you’re accomplished enough to exist, but too inept to guide yourself towards a functioning reality. Thusly, one obtains a disdain for reality. From which there emerges, like beans from a tin, stupidity.
DAVE: HAVE YOU EVER HAD TO FIRE A STAFF MEMBER?
Yes, we fired our old office apprentice from a cannon. It was hilarious.
DEIRDRE: WHAT’S THE POINT OF YOUR WEBSITE?
DEBBIE: WHAT’S THE FUNNIEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED IN THE OFFICE?
Well, this one time the postman turned up and Mr. Wapojif chased him out of Manchester with a shotgun. That was pretty funny. The rest of the time there’s a no laughter policy. Laughing results in 30 lashes from a rusty chain.
The principle behind this work ethic is dejection leads to flourishes of genius. As Mr. Wapojif put it: “It’s only when you see blood spurting from an open wound that you can quantify the unquantifiable. Mainly thanks to blood loss induced hallucinatory incoherence.”
DEREK: CAN YOU TELL US ANY TITILLATING OFFICE GOSSIP?
Our office is guarded at night by a man sitting in the middle (of the office) silently holding a shotgun. We pay him £10 and call him Shotgun Man. But his real name is Barry and he lives in Old Trafford and likes eating crisps. He’s not overly dangerous, but he will GUN YOU DOWN if you try and get into our premises.
DAPHNE: DO YOU HAVE ANY PLANS OF MAKING YOUR OFFICES INTERNATIONAL?
We’re currently perfectly happy with our dilapidated location. It arouses little suspicion.
DOM: DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR PEOPLE WHO WANT TO START A WEBSITE?
No. None at all.
DYLAN: HOW COME NONE OF YOUR INVENTIONS EVER MAKE IT TO THE STORES? I’VE BEEN MEANING TO BUY SOME CEMINT FOR AGES AND IT’S NOT TURNING UP. NOT EVEN IN MARKS & SPENCERS.
DANIEL: WHAT DOES EVERYONE IN THE OFFICE EAT AT LUNCH?
Our lunch break is five minutes, so there’s a frantic sense of blood lust (or just hunger) to consume food within this period. Mr. Wapojif generally stands and stares blankly at a wall (that’s his technique for overcoming hunger pangs – like Elon Musk, he believes a 200 hour week is the only way to accomplish anything), but the others like to consume baked beans.
Only three types of food are allowed in the office. The aforementioned baked beans, buckwheat organic noodles, and celery.
So, yeah, there’s a crazed rush to force whatever we can down within those few minutes. If we continue eating even a second after the five minutes expire, Mr. Wapojif lashes us mercilessly with a rusty bazooka. And that hurts, so we tend to try to avoid breaching his rules.
The best approach is to prepare food into a smoothie before you head in to work each day. Blend the noodles, beans, and celery and add to a bottle. Mr. Wapojif then tests this concoction when you arrive by taking a sip. If he thinks it’s okay, he hands it back and then you’re okay to down it at lunch. We don’t think it’s the best policy, but what you gonna do?
DOMINIC: ARE YOU ALLOWED BATHROOM BREAKS?
Although toilet breaks aren’t encouraged, sometimes they’re necessary. There’s only one toilet, though, and it’s in a frightful state as we haven’t got round to cleaning it at any point in 2018.
So there are a few flies buzzing around it, a stench like no other, and the bog brush has broken. As such, Mr. Wapojif has asked us to either “hold it in” or just foul ourselves where we sit.
DEBBIE: WHAT WAS THE BEST THING YOU GUYS EVER DID?
Who let you comment again!? Or is this a different Debbie? Whatever. The BEST thing!? Probably that time we did a John Lennon-styled Peace Off by the bins. It was a great moment.
Damo: I love you guys, you’re so ****ed up!
Shut your face, you stupid bloody hippy.
Diego: Realmente desprecio tu sitio web. Creo que eres escoria infrahumana. Vete a la mierda Mierda a todos ustedes! ¡Muerte a los paganos!
Er… que? We don’t speak that language. Sorry.
Dasha: Какого черта с тобой! Ты полные гребаные ублюдки! Вы, англичанин, и ваше чувство мошенничества! Умереть! Умереть! Умереть!
That’s… yes. Thank you for your statement. Умереть all the way.
Daideku: Jancok sampeyan bajingan bajingan!
You said it, kid!
Dan: Spare some change, mate?
Piss off, you freeloader.
Dofri: Dauðinn til þín, þú dáinn drápu dauða naut! þú! Fílar!
Fabulous! Join us next for a highly bizarre Q&A with Professional Moron.