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Fire alarm went off at work today… didn’t happen at the best of times.. I was knee deep in deeds searching for an item that was lost not quite where it was meant to be. It turns out that despite our fire drill last week they thought it might be a fabulous idea to do it all again this week… which is a right royal pain in the arse.
What alieviated a particularly tiresome 30 minutes was watching women young and old (OK… by that I mean almost every woman in the place apart from a select few… including me because I am… after all… a lady) go simply gaga when the fire brigade turned up.
I’m sorry but I fail to understand where this myth of handsome and incredibly hot (pardon the pun) firefighters comes from. If there are any hot firefighters they sure as shit aren’t in Plymouth. From where I was standing they looked mighty grumpy and pissed off to have to put their massive uniforms on on such a warm and delightful day.
Yeah… and from where I’m standing (which is right next to a miserable old goat who has forgotten what it’s like to have her nipple ring tugged by someone other than herself) a wedding band sure as shit does the trick in downgrading hotness.