Bitter sweet morning

This morning I came to work with a red t-shirt and a big smile on my face. Forget the weather, I'm lucky if I get to see the sun once a week here. I threw myself at my desk sipping my coffee and reading about how Man United went to the Olimpico and made a mockery out of the Romans' claims of revenge last night. That even made me forget that my laptop's hard disk died after merely two busy years, ten minutes before the match.

The boss, a PhD working in these incendiary cells of laborious torture, quickly came over to spoil the fun with enough forced labour to make China jealous.