Gnomes

Yes, folks, welcome back to Limpet Central. I'm here to tell you all about the exciting opportunities currently on offer in gnome related industries, one of the few remaining growth sectors in our present troubled economic times. Here's a window into a day in the life of one such employee, currently working in the high-tech sandwich manufacturing facilities owned by the famed entrepreneur, Barry the Gnome. *Groan*

7:30 - Wake up in semi-squalid flat in the unfashionable outskirts of Tumberwell, examine last night's pizza in dispassionate revulsion from vantage point of bed . Get up.

8:00 - After uncomplicated preparations, and an "anything you can lay your hands on that's edible" breakfast, enter factory gates and clock in. Try to avoid glances of particularly unpleasant employees, try to avoid stepping on particularly diminutive employees.

8:05 - Begin work at fish paste boilers and meat reclamation unit. Scrub offal tanks, escaping just in time as they are filled with steaming mass of the morning gizzard shipment. Meet coworker, Nigel the Gnome, who is already reading pornographic magazine. Attempt not to see contents, but see anyway and regret it.

10:00 - Tea break. Enter fetid alcove that passes for a tearoom, hope Gorgrod the troll is not there. Gorgrod the troll is there, reading the newspaper and scratching himself in an unsavory manner. Before kettle has boiled, Gorgrod starts reading aloud news article about latest government incompetence in a hesitant but bellowing voice, his finger following the text as he reads. Puts down paper and stamps about, incoherently and with many random pauses to remember words like "and" or "the", as he elaborates on what he would do if he were in charge, his small, closely set eyes budging manically, bits of spit arcing violently across the room. Nigel the Gnome enters, followed by Graham the Gnome. The former tells funny story about his aunt Dorris and a humorously shaped toilet brush. Laugh.

10:15 - Continue work. Mind wanders, end up with feet covered in pâté, another one of Nigel's practical jokes. Get own back by putting pilchards in his spare boots.

1:00 - Lunch time. Take free sandwiches from staff canteen, wonder how it is possible to eat them, having witnessed their manufacture. Go for walk in Tumberwell, face approximate direction of Zarfang and assume wistful expression, then think about Grott's unpardonable desertion and assume tetchiest expression. Shake fist. Walk quickly away from passer by who is giving funny look.

2:00 - Work resumes. Transferred to sandwich assembly department due to Dave the Gnome being sent home after caught swimming in the gravy vat. Listen to old women that work there talk incessantly about their relatives' health complaints (including bunion problems, varicose veins and Antie Doreen's "trouble") until near insanity ensues, cheer up considerably upon noticing Nigel walking along, wearing his spare boots and looking suspiciously at them, as he hears squishing and observes pilchard paste oozing from the lace holes.

5:00 - Home time at last. Assure Nigel that it wasn't me with the pilchard incident. Clock out, once again attempting to avoid most unpleasant employees. Walk home and cook tea, attempt to remove persistent fishy smell from clothes.

7:30 - End up in nearby pub with Nigel the Gnome and his various gnome friends. Get a bit drunk, listen with amazement at Nigel's revolting stories. Make fun of Nigel's fishy feet. Attempt to play game of darts, leave pub in a hurry after accidentally lodging dart in leathery backside of drunken troll. Outside, accidently reveal culpability in the pilchard incident, recieve pointy end of Nigel's hat to groin. When recovered, on to another pub.

10:00 - Back home, time for bed. Think about how great scented plug-ins could be, if used correctly and responsibly. Look forward to another exciting day.


****

Well, that's pretty much the sort of lifestyle I'm currently enjoying. Pretty good eh? Who needs dark magic when you can.... AH! WHO AM I KIDDING! It's driving me mad already! I seriously need something exciting to happen, I'm going to get down to the library and find some magical tomes of unspeakable, or failing that, speakable evil this weekend and give this magic thing a whole new try. I'll show that Eldrigar a thing or two, see if I don't! Or failing that, I can at least give that Barry the Gnome something to think about. I've seen him swanning about in his gold-plated trousers while his staff toil away at minimum wage! Honestly, it's enough to make you turn communist!

You know, it would be very helpful if I'd had time to get some of my stuff from Zarfang. I expect it's been burnt to the ground by now, though, and it's not as if you can send the removal van around the day after you're defeated in a wizarding duel. If nothing else, I would have liked to keep my old potion collection, especially the one that makes you fall in love with cakes, if for nothing else but the ability to play some spectacular practical jokes on people. Seems a shame, though, that potion's probably the only stuff of its kind ever made, seems a shame for it to get thrown away.

Anyway, time for me to go, I've got work in the morning. I'll leave you with one gnome related thought first - why do gnomes always refer to themselves as such-and-such "the gnome?" It's just plain ridiculous - I don't call myself "the human", do I? Err, well, maybe I'm a bad example, being as I do, in fact, call myself "The Limpet". Never mind, I'm getting bored of gnomes, as I'm sure you are.

See you next time, who knows what might have happened by then? Well, hopefully something. YAY!