Leigh Bramwell - Randy Old Goat Flu

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This will be a short editorial because I have swine flu. Well, I probably have a cold, in fact, but I figure the self-diagnosis of swine flu will get me more sympathy. It will also stop senior male staff members from hitting on me in the lift. Not that they do. But then, I don’t work in an office full of politicians.

Actually, I am beginning to think the whole swine flu thing is a scam invented by the government to take the pressure off Richard Worth, with the corollary that it will dissuade other over-stimulated politicians from getting close enough to their female associates to be able to whisper “off colour” remarks. (If anyone can tell me what colour “off colour” is, I’d be grateful.)

I’m a little disappointed that I spent much of my early twenties working to see women treated the same as men, only to be confronted, 30 years later, by a generation of them who don’t seem to be able to say ‘naff off you randy old goat’ with any sort of conviction.

So for those who don’t know how to dissuade a ROG before he’s sent you 60 text messages, here are some suggestions. They’re not from me. They’re from a friend of mine who has had much more botox than I have and consequently still gets hit on from time to time.

If she’s in a moderately good humour she says: “OK, go your hardest, it’s been a crap day anyway.”

And if she’s grumpy, she says: “I can’t let you do this. It’ll just spoil me for other men.”

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