The Gangs of ICT

Shake it off.. ah ah ah. Shake it off...

As I was leaving the coffee shop, I couldn't help but hum the shit tunes that they had been playing.

At least it wasn't Christmas music though, that was a plus.

There would be enough of that twoddle at the office Christmas party tonight.

I took a sip of my coffee as I approached the entrance of the office and shook my head, wondering what antics would happen tonight.

OI! BoomDawg!

I snapped out of my musings and looked up.

Outside the office, smoking a fag, was a developer I recognised, Kipper.
_{Don't worry, he wasn't murdering a homosexual man. Fag in Scotland means cigarette.}

Morning, Kipper.

I said as I jinked about to stay upwind of the foul smoke chuffing out of his mouth.

Kipper took a deep draw of his cigarette and fixed me with a calculating look.

Christmas night out tonight.

He said knowingly.

Yup, it is indeed.

I said with my customary handsomosity.

I hear you are running with the Ten-Pinters?

He said, spitting to the side then returning his flat gaze to me.

The fucking what? No. No, I'm fucking not. There is no way on earth I am hanging about with that bunch and drinking ten pints of beer tonight

I made a face as if my cat had left a skid mark on my pillow again.

Kipper nodded sagely.

Might be able to make a space for you with the Whisky Boys, if yer interested.

He remarked casually, staring off into the distance as if he had glimpsed a beaver, far off, building a dam.

Aw, whisky, the whole night long. No thanks, man. I'm a maverick. A lone wolf. Cheers though.

I moved on into the office.

Behind me his voice rang out.

I'll keep a space... Just in case.

The day trudged wearily on. Everyone was acting a little manic with the thought of all the free booze and madness to come later that night.

At lunchtime, I popped out for a sandwich. On my return, in the elevator, a girl who sat near me stared at my sandwich in disgust.

What the fuck is that?

She asked as if I were holding a dead rat with a shit in its mouth.

Sandwich, making sure I've got something in my stomach before all the booze..

I said jovially.

Eatin's cheatin. None of us are having anything to eat before it.

She tutted contemptuously at me and turned away.

I presumed by us she was referring to her crew. Was I the only person not in a gang?

Out of the elevator. I headed back to my desk. On my way there, I caught sight of Fenton-The-Cat-Smuggler and the rest of the Ten-Pinters.

He laughed then drew his hand across his throat.

Ten Pints.

He mouthed at me.

I snorted like an angry horse and ignored him.

With a sigh of relief I sat at my desk. Bloody gangs, there was no way I was going to be stuck in one.

What you drinking tonight, Boomy?

My mate BinJuice stopped by my desk.

No idea, probably fancy beers and picklebacks.

BinJuice jerked upright as if his rectum had announced it was voting for Brexit.

Fucking hell. That sounds awesome. Can I be in your gang?

I raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping over my beautiful face.

My gang?.. Why, yes. Yes, you can.