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    Hampton dilemma. Archived Message

    Posted by PhilRobbie on 3/2/2022, 3:00 pm

    Looking for advice.

    One of My staff, a Cartier Industries stalwart…who shall remain anonymous, (I’ll refer to him ‘H’ on here) is apparently going through a midlife crisis and reinvented himself as a ‘hipster’.

    It all started with a strange aroma emulating from the bin shed…and for once it wasn’t the the usual stench of stale Pot Noodle and B.O. It even disguised the stench of The Dingler’s disgusting socks that he insists on soaking in a bucket.
    No…for some reason the aroma was not unlike strawberries.

    I unlocked their apartment only to find I couldn’t see in properly through a haze of thick smoke.
    Panicking I made haste back upstairs to my rooms and called 999 before chucking The Dingler’s putrid sock bucket in the direction of the fire!

    Of course it wasn’t a fire it was vape steam and a bedraggled ‘H’ staggered from the shed.
    When his coughing subsided he mumbled something about his hair being ruined. This surprised me the most as Hampton’s…sorry ‘H’s hair has resembled a mop ever since I first saw him being de-bagged outside of Gresty Rd back in the mid 70’s.

    When he eventually dried out and re-visited his new found stylist on Underbank he re-emerged With what resembled three haircuts in one!

    Complete with silly Paisley waist coat, painted on burgundy jeans (…that disturbingly left nothing to the imagination….URGGH! My eyes!!!) ridiculous snot-encrusted douchbag beard and foolish wrinkle pickers he looked at me with rebellious eyes and chose to resign from Cartier Industries forthwith!

    “I’m a hipster now and intend getting a job in the media” he sneered in his weedy voice. I of course booted him up the arse and told him to return to the shed immediately.
    He sat in the corner scricing and refused to speak. What a sight! The little Mard arse went without his Pot Noodle THAT night I can tell you!

    But later, sat alone in my rooms I was a tad concerned, not only had I lost Oaf who carted off without permission to a month long beer festival in Rhyl, I was now only left with The Dingler for forthcoming jobs…and to be frank…he’s *%^#+*%^ useless.

    I’ve tried to kick some sense into the ungrateful little coward but to no avail.

    Any advice on how to make the weedy little reprobate change his tiny mind would be most appreciated.

    Thanks in advance.

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