It’s that time of year when we celebrate the Professional Moron Christmas party! Yes! We throw off the shackles of working life to get down and funky in our dilapidated office. With alcohol and class A narcotics flowing freely, you can guarantee there won’t be any flirting, fun, and festivities afoot. Indeed.
First, we’re just sticklers for the correct procedures. It may be time to let our hair down (except for our esteemed editor, Mr. Wapojif, who is balding), but that doesn’t mean any old antic can let fly. So, here’s our list of stuff we can’t get up to:
- Absolutely no mini-skirts (even though it’s a male only office).
- The below minimum wage apprentice must pay for all of the drinks (and must get all of the drugs).
- There’s a no talking policy for the first hour of the party. Colleagues can only glare sternly at each other from across the room.
- Absolutely no goddamn flirting!
- If a fight breaks out, only bare knuckles are allowed – no chainsaws, after what happened last year.
- First employee to get naked is fined £100.
- The last employee to get naked is fined £200.
- If the police are called, you know the drill – out the back window, run for it, dive into Salford Quays, and don’t still swimming until you reach some other area of land (or drown).
- The music at the event will consist of classical, ’60s rock, and then for the final hour of the event Agadoo by Black Lace will play on a loop at full volume.
- You are, under no circumstances, allowed to bring friends, relatives, or your girlfriend to the event. If they turn up anyway, they will be driven from the property by Mr. Wapojif wielding a shotgun.
Now, for 2018 we’re having a fancy dress theme that is: bubonic plague afflicted corpses. Basically, you turn up dressed as a corpse (afflicted with bubonic plague). However, you’re also allowed to attend as a Disney character of your choice if the former is too depressing for you.
Meanwhile, Professional Moron’s readers can congregate outside our office and watch the festivities from the cold of Manchester’s winter streets. It’d advisable you leave before 12am, as that’s usually around the time when the riot police aren’t far off.
As everyone comes to feeling confused and humiliated at around 7am, we’ve got the post-Christmas party survival pack.
It’s a new thing for this year and follows in the aftermath of the 2017 event (police arrests – “You are not allowed to scale Manchester Town Hall stark bollock naked in order to, ‘Defecate on society from the upper ecelons of society’! You’re nicked, sonny jims.”) Please follow the below guidelines:
- Upon waking and finding yourself hungover, remain in this state until the nausea, headache, vomiting, and feelings of shame and worthlessness pass (usually about 24 hours).
- Upon waking and finding you’ve slept with a colleague, keep it to yourselves. Office romances make us want to puke.
- Upon waking to discover an unsightly new tattoo that says “I love dick” or whatever… you really only have yourself to blame.
- Upon waking in a prison cell, you’re on your own.
- Upon not waking, you are dead. Congratulations!
Enjoy the Christmas party and have a great time! Don’t forget, if you’ve not already paid for your ticket then direct your money via PayPal to us immediately: £500.
ROFL. I didn’t know you have and employee named Dick. Anyway, live it up, wishing you many fun but regrettable shenanigans.
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They have a Dick?
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