FIRE!

There was yet another fire alarm at work. There seems to be a sinister intention to show us just how few people are actually left in the centre. Every time there's noticeably less, so it's a bit like being in a horror film where characters are being picked off one by one - only less fun.

We are currently being encouraged to 'Go BIG Early', which means reporting potential 'critical incidents' as soon as we notice anything 'out of the ordinary'. Which sounds to me like a licence to run around screaming and waving your arms around every time an insect flies in the window - I can hardly wait for it to be put into practice.

Meanwhile, in the office, Jeremy Vine on Radio 2 was discussing the story of some girls who were arrested for picking daffodils in the park. This story is certainly good tabloid fodder with its lively opposition of contrasting cliches: the innocent young girls skipping through the park with their Easter baskets full of flowers being surrounded by armed police and carted off to prison to be brutalised. It reminded Lorraine of the dog poo bins in Doddinghurst, which had been set alight by youths. 'They should do a programme about that', she said. I agreed that it would certainly put those leaking Japanese nuclear reactors into perspective.

Doddinghurst sounds like fun. I recall Lorraine's account of a 'donkey derby' there at which someone's big dog attacked someone else's smaller dog, and, in order to get it to unlock its jaws, someone set fire to it with a cigarette lighter. This proved so popular, that they now do it every year.

jetsam

Plumbers have been to look at the bathroom, sucking their teeth and offering quotes. Soon, the toilet may become stable, and sitting upon it less like an experience at Alton Towers. In the back garden, the previous toilet still reclines. Dave has suggested making it a centrepiece of the front lawn, which is a good idea, except that passers-by would probably use it for its original intended purpose.

Honestly, what is the world coming to when you can't even put a toilet in your front garden for fear of people pissing and shitting in it? I've a good mind to write a letter to the Daily Mail. WORK LONGER FOR A SMALLER PENSION, was their headline on Thursday. As their special offers go, it seems unlikely to prove as popular as Lark Rise on DVD.

Of course this was before events in Japan made every other news story shamefacedly wonder if it really belonged on the news at all. Watching all those homes and cars being swept away, as though by the whim of a child at the end of a game, it strikes me that the worst thing is - Nature makes it look so easy. I've already lost count of the number of nuclear reactors that have exploded or are due to explode. Why does Japan build so many nuclear power stations by the sea?, grumbled the Daily Mail peevishly. As if the Japanese were just being typically perverse. Eventually, however, they had to answer their own question - they use sea water as a coolant. Oh, right.

the workplace that dripped blood

Torture Garden was a British anthology-type horror movie from the late 60's. It was considered scary stuff back then; now, you buy it on DVD (as I did the other day) and find that it's rated 12 and is said to contain 'some moderate horror'. What does this say about society?

The separate stories are linked by Burgess Meredith's carnival showman Dr. Diabolo (aka: the Devil) hypnotising his victims using a pair of scissors (wielded by 'Atropos, Goddess of Destiny' but you don't need to know that). 'Stare into the shears of Fate!', Dr. D intones...it's a situation that has a peculiar resonance for those of us whose jobs are at the mercy of government cuts.

The Blood Centre at Brentwood may be relocating, we have been told. Not to the Bahamas, sadly. 'In the Brentwood area', probably. For 'the majority of staff'. Which is alright, unless you are in the minority of staff - those who, during the relocation, may be accidentally mislaid.

Every day I turn up at the Centre wondering will my pass work, or will I be left forlornly staring up at the windows of empty rooms - 'Oh, didn't they tell you?'

The latest rumour is that it's going to be turned into 'a mental health unit'. So we won't have to leave after all, is the joke doing the rounds. Old people's home, ditto.

Ironically, we are quite busy, but there is still time to get the measure of a fast-changing world through the medium of Jeremy Vine on Radio 2. David Cameron wants to establish a 'no fly' zone over Libya. Seems a bit unrealistic. How are they going to keep out all those flies?, I wonder...

Then controversy rages as John Galliano crosses the line between camp excess and enthusiastic support for genocide with some ill-advised anti-Semitic remarks, but it all seems to have got wildly out of proportion, and I'm tempted to ring in: 'Jeremy, not a day goes by in this office without somebody declaring their undying love for Hitler, and no-one bats an eyelid.' A little bit of common sense, that's what's needed... but of course I am far too busy to do this.

What does the future hold for the Brentwood Blood Centre? Will we be turned into robots? Will a cat eat our heads? Or will the plot of Torture Garden have no bearing at all upon our experience?

The Devil only knows.