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PwC sent off two of its own to the campus in what would prove to be 2 hours between the receipt of a book voucher. One, a climbing stack of hair by the name of Pip and the other a stern looking Cheryl. The food in the back was the usual fare. Small triangles, cakes and OJ. The two platters had the sandwiches all lined out on the level except for the ones that had mustard seeds, these were skewered with a pick on the end of a tiny tomato.
Had to get fast and early to the food and cakes as a few of the other attendees took it upon themselves to finger a few then pick up an entirely different sample. This is most unsightly and possibly a cause for their complaints of the intrusion of privacy regarding falsified doctor's notes of excuse.
There was much butcher's paper to graf on and the words never came out in a more incomprehensible mess. It amounted to nothing more than a long stint between the start and the end. At least there was some change as another focus session later on was headed by a fairly pronounced gut that for some reason mentioned the word 'beauty' every so often.
Given the rise to the appreciation of gonzo journalism, a Hunter S. Thompson book will be on the other end of the hostage negotiation.
Tuesday, 17 September 2002 - 10:31
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