‘Bold strides this colossus in the workplace

with footsteps firm and full of flawless grace,

noble of purpose and so fair of face,

greeting PowerPoint with such fond embrace.

O Mighty Strategist! Leader Complete!

The Pivot-fabled Slayer of Spreadsheets!

Analytical Artist! Office Athlete!

Leviathan of the Corporate Elite!’

As if it were not enough for him to haunt me in the corporate networking world, he now has to do it in real life, too.

‘Hi, Brian!’ said Stuart loudly, when he dropped Dylan off this morning. ‘How’s all that job-hunting going?!’

‘I’m not looking for a job.’

‘Of course not! You’ve not been updating your LinkedIn page at all!’ he chuckled.

I went to close the door. He put his foot in it.

‘Look, Brian. Honestly, any help you need to get yourself on your feet again,’ he grinned at my slippers as he said this, ‘then just say the word! I know things have been hard for you.’

He gave me a sympathetic look then put his hand on my shoulder.

I shrank back and he appraised me once more.

‘Don’t feel too bad about failure, Brian. It’s just a petrol stop on the road to success! Anyway, I need to go! Charity free-running event! Young carers and vulnerable children!’

He parkoured off and I retreated back inside to Dylan.

We proceeded carefully. All mention of What Dylan Told Me When We Were Skimming Stones was avoided. If no one talks about it, it can’t happen. Everyone knows that.

Sunday August 26th

Six Haiku Book Reviews

It is now Toby Salt’s turn to invade my personal space again. His ferrety eyes stared out at me from the pages of the Sunday review section. I proceeded to draw on him: horn-rimmed glasses and a large phallus emanating from the top of his head. Next to his photo is a five-star review (presumably out of a hundred) by the paper’s poetry editor, Sefton Warbrick, who writes: