I wanted to write more about self-congratulatory papers in the world like the Economic Times which believes that news about ET is more important than news, and when they write about news they address people Mayawati as Ms Mayawati. Give it a couple of months and we will start seeing copy which says Mukesh sir.
But no, today's post is a slightly bitchy one about my current favourite colleague who the resident office Naxalite (OK, thats a bit harsh, but still...) has dubbed Uncle B.
Uncle B is a new colleague, not exactly new, but I've been working with him for two months. Unlike Uncle A, who a friend says will look cool as an uncle – bowler har, cigar in mouth and a glass of scotch in his hand, Uncle B defines the term kharoos. Which is not a good thing. You see, I prefer to see Uncle B as the Pointy Haired boss from Dilbert comics, but unlike the pointy haired boss, he is not a boss, and god save journalism if he ever becomes one. Uncle B, I will however define as 'Pointy-Haired Wannabe Boss', a PHWB. PHWB could really do with a hat, or maybe a toupee.
Given Uncle B's tremendous people skills which involve at various times calling people fat/ugly/knickers or North Indian (the 'scum' bit I think he leaves unsaid), you can imagine his large friends circle. Sadly for all involved he also thinks he has a fabulous sense of humour. Methinks he lost that when he quit the bottle some six years ago – I'm given lectures on the dangers of the bottle. And food. And the BJP. And sex. And drugs. And, lets see now...
After a long time, I'm working with a delightfully obnoxious character who thinks he is God's gift to journalism/mankind/bureaucrats/politicians/drivers/take your pick. God knows, but I think he considers himself to be part of the Hindu pantheon of Gods also. After all, what is another god in a list that goes into the billions?
So, Uncle B/PHWB/God, this new colleague has made bitching fun again. And no, as far as I know he doesn't read this blog. As yet!