Today I have interspersed my usual important journo jobs (write something, edit something else, talk loudly about how under- appreciated I am, bitch, bitch, gossip and bitch, text, drink, give the office Earnest Police cut eye in the lobby etcetera,) with regular Scoubidou breaks. Scoubidous are long strands of multicoloured plastic that a person can weave together to make key-rings, a process which is both fashionable and therapeutic. The kids are all over them, but Effikal Siegle doesn't approve, because Scoubidous are not a renewable resource.
But then, Effikal's having a bad day generally. This AM, a PR mailed her 'just to touch base.' Effikal was annoyed. 'No one touches my base without an invitation,' she said. I am very much with her on this. Ignoring for one moment PR statements of the: 'My client would like to know what dress size you wear' variety, PRs can say the oddest things. The one who rang and asked 'to talk to The Bar Whore' has a special place in my heart, and absolutely no space in any of my columns.
