It's a sad day.
Daisy is leaving us.
Not that Daisy works with or for us; she's downstairs with the 'Disco Bunnies', but that hasn't stopped her being the object of our affections. The Disco Bunnies are in fact an agency that promotes and books high-end DJs...Eric Prydz is one of their clients....or used to be, I'm not sure which. Eric is, of course, very talented, and you can see one of his most famous and compelling videos below - don't watch it if you're of a nervous disposition:
To be honest it was never one of my favourites, but I thought I'd include it, following in the footsteps of Steve who puts up pictures of scantily clad lovelies to boost his readership. Allegedly.
The alarm on the Disco Bunnies' office is a smoke bomb - set it off and within a few seconds, the entire place is fully of a dense acrid smoke which both chokes you and stops you from seeing where you are. Any burglars trying to pinch computers will most likely trip over and break their necks. When they first moved in, the smoke bomb would be set off on a daily basis. There were never any burglars.
The Disco Bunnies are made up of the sort of characters you would expect...at least we would expect. There's the guy who's clearly smoked so much dope that the world is only vaguely aware of his existence, there's the girl who tends to wear moon boots and a mini skirt whether its 30 degrees above or below freezing point, there's the guy who's got so many piercings you know it must take him several hours to get through security at Heathrow, there's the beautiful east European girl who one day will smile at you and the next scowl, there's the guy who must be fifty but still dresses like a 17 year old, there's the girl who wears every colour under the sun every day on clothes that were clearly made for someone three times her size.
And then there's Daisy. The sort of girl that we've all decided would be great on a drunken night out, but you'd never take her home to see Mummy. We first met Daisy a couple of months after we moved into the building. She waltzed into the office explaining that the battery on her mobile phone was nearly flat and could she charge it in our office. She left it here for the rest of the day with it ringing off the hook. We'd regularly see her out of our windows in the courtyard below, and we'd often hear her. On the good days she'd be laughing and cackling on the phone, on the bad days she'd be screaming, crying and using every expletive and blasphemy imaginable. And a few more. As she came out of the building, mobile phone clasped to ear it was often difficult to know which way it would go, so we'd take bets and wait for the conversation unfold. Sometimes these were client conversations, sometimes boyfriends. On other occasions she'd be downstairs with the bosses..either over-excited at the new car they'd bought or in tears because something was not right or had gone wrong. Stability isn't a word you'd apply to the lovely Daisy.
During the time of the riots, Daisy came up to see us one lunchtime. She explained that neither of her bosses were in the office or available on mobiles, so given there was going to be more riots later would it be OK if she and her colleagues went home early. "Yes" we said enjoying our new found responsibilities.
I feel our days are going to be a little bit duller.
