Social Secretary

Of course I never wanted to be social secretary, but my workmates decided that, with my track record, it should be me. And besides, nobody else would do it. I said, all right provided I’m given a Friday afternoon off once a month. Sounded very reasonable to me. The boss called it blackmail, which was a bit rich coming from her. 

Only the other day, I was out the back vaping – they’re not allowed indoors after Colin’s custard flavoured e-cigarette caused a bout of vomiting in public relations. -Yes, I was out the back vaping when the boss comes trotting across the car park with a load of shopping bags. It was well after two o’clock. There’s absolutely no way you can get round all those shops in an hour and come back with a wrinkle-free forehead.

I think it was the night on the town that showed my social secretary credentials. The paramedics were lovely and very patient with Joanna. Joanna - she might be good in accounts but she can’t add up how many drinks she’s had. The restaurant sent us a cleaning bill, damn cheek. She reckons she’s quite sophisticated nowadays. ‘You wouldn’t catch me drinking cider from a 2L bottle, not now I’m married.’ Her new drink of choice is brandy and Benedictine. She says her gran used to put it in her dummy. Well that explains a lot. 

At least Martin was well behaved this year. He’s calmed down ever since that stag-do when he woke up in a police cell in Scarborough. It’s a good job he had connections and was released without charge – he might have lost his job.

I have to say the day trip to the races was a triumph. I know we had a few hiccups – one hospitalised, one missing and one blaming the bet she lost for an unwanted pregnancy. But on the whole it was a big success - I got a round of applause on the coach home. 

So I’m left organising the Christmas do for sixty – absolutely no partners this year. Not after Muffin and Puffin (that’s what they call each other) decided to have a joint hen and stag do. People needed counselling. 

I’ve had to start the venue search early because we are very restricted. The social club down the road banned us because last year somebody nicked the Christmas decorations and the seating in the church hall had to be reupholstered the year before. I was thinking of the hotel down by the industrial estate. But it’s still closed until further notice – do you know that place has been temporarily closed for as long as I can remember. Mind you, even when it was open it was strange – the no vacancies sign was a permanent fixture. But I reckon it’s always a giveaway when the frost never settles on the roof. Who needs to keep an empty place that warm? We wanted to report it but the boss said ‘no, keep your heads down, it could upset the applecart.’ She can be so shifty sometimes.

So I’m going to improvise this year – we’ll have the Christmas party in the staff canteen. But we’re going to have it at New Year – you see I can lay my hands on some cheap fireworks. They’ll be seconds like but my contact, Guy (not his real name, he thinks he’s a bit of a comedian), Guy says the fireworks will be ok provided (a) there’s no children around,  (b) the person with the lighter wears flame retardant clothing and (c) everyone else watches them from indoors. That’s a bit strange don’t you think?

The boss says it’s ok to use the staff canteen so long as the alcohol is restricted to beer and wine. She never mentioned anything about white powder so, as long as I have time on New Years Eve to decant several gallons of vodka and tequila into wine bottles everything should go with a bang.

You’ve no idea how hard it is trying to organise anything for a bunch of coppers. 

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