Merry Monkeyin' Christmas....

What did my beloved readers get this season? Do let the Monkey with a Blue Rosette know if you had a good holiday. I say holiday, as I'm not allowed to mention Christmas; as you all know, I work at a directory enquiries call centre when not being political, and it fell to me to work the December 25 shift. Now I'd taken a few days off to go campaigning in Barmpotsby before the festive period, and then went on the booze cruise to Calais with the Barmpotsby Conservative Constituency Association. When I returned to work on 25 December, I became aware of the new company rules.

My boss had been monitoring one of my calls, and I had wished the caller a "Merry Christmas". I was pulled aside and warned that if I said it again, I would be up on a disciplinary, because of the new rules. "What new rules?" I said. The new rules that we weren't to mention Christmas to callers, in case we offended them if they were not Christian. How can we offend them? I asked. I know people of different religions who celebrate Christmas, not because of believing in Christ, but rather enjoying the holiday as a chance for love, caring, thinking of others and being with family. Ah, my boss said, but someone of a different religion might get offended and we don't want to take that risk.

I had been unaware of the rules. The only advise my boss could give regarding that was to ensure I remained in contact with work on my days to be aware of any updates. If we must insist on greeting them, we must use the politically neutral "Season's Greetings" or "Happy Holidays". Blimey.

Later that day, when a caller was ringing in to get the Vodafone helpline to activate a new phone she'd received for Christmas, it slipped my mind and I wished the caller a "Happy Christmas". My boss overheard this, and now I'm on a warning after my disciplinary meeting today. This is political correctness gone mad, I said, but it didn't help. I am but a phone monkey in a call centre.

So, let me take this opportunity to advise one and all via my blog that I wish you all a MERRY CHRISTMAS, whichever section of society you belong to, and whether or not you choose to celebrate Christmas.

Candidate in trouble

Only on the A-list for a short time, and already I'm in trouble. Conference is coming up, and I've been told in no uncertain terms that my attendance is expected.

But I can't go.

I've tried getting time off at work, at the directory enquiries firm where I work, but they are extremely strict about awarding time off or holiday time, as the priority is to keep people on the phones, and time off is at a premium. In fact, one colleague in the team where I work had a bit of a breakdown in the office this afternoon. Her father's funeral was today, and they'd given her compassionate leave to arrange the funeral, but was not allowed to take any more time off today, the day her father was buried. I'm starting to feel that this is not such a happy place to work after all. It was resolved in the end as they gave her ten minbutes off the phones to call her mother's mobile, then told her she had to get back to work or face a disciplinary. Are call centres the modern equivalent of the 19th century workhouses? I suspect they are.

But back to politics. I need to think of a convincing excuse to tell my employer why I'm not at work during the forthcoming conference; then if I do manage to get to conference, I must then avoid the cameras and press, as they are likely to want to interview me (as I am the only openly bestial candidate) and I might be seen back home by my bosses.

What to do?

Back to work

Back home in Ludlow, I headed off to work on Friday. Working in a call centre is okay, it certainly pays the bills, but I don't know, maybe something has changed since we got out of training. In training, they presented it as being a bright and bubbly company to work in, with plenty of opportunity for the aspiring member of staff. However, when I get out on the floor, it seems that not everyone is happy.

They certainly weren't happy with me when I returned to work. Last week I pulled a sickie to get off work and go to London, and this week I somehow managed to book it off as holiday. It's incredible, as they queue up the calls such, and have such a high turnover of staff that it's nigh impossible to book any time off because I should be on the phones, but somehow I did it.

But when I got in on Friday, they gave me 24 hours notice that I had a disciplinary meeting on Saturday for my absence last week (as they had changed my shifts without telling me whilst I was away, and now must permanently do a weekend day as well, and they'll give me one day off in the week in exchange, the weekday at their discretion). I'm thinking there is something amiss here, as when I told various colleagues that I was going for a disciplinary, they were not worried, but rather quite congratulatory. "Well done! That's time off the phones!" Not to worry though, it was my first offence so they would let it slide.

Perhaps working for a directory enquiries company is not all it cracked up to be. Maybe I am just a phone monkey.... And having an employer which messes around with your hours so is not conducive to planning my diary as to knowing which constituency meetings I can attend for selection!

Have to go now, I'm off to take part and give a speech at an interspecies forum to discuss bestial politics and encouraging voter participation in the animal kingdom. Should be interesting.

Moonlighting

I've been working odd jobs, in addition to my job at the directory enquiries call centre as a phone monkey. Some of you may have seen my latest job, involving a public appearance on television. For those who may have missed it, it's on YouTube, and reproduced below. I admit it was done under a lot of make-up, so I don't quite look the same, and they made me take my blue rosette off, but I did a good day's job, and finally got to show off my musical talents. And that, dear readers, is how I was able to afford my little jaunt to London recently to become an A-List candidate. Now if only I could get a job advertising bananas....

Hangover in Westminster

I don't remember what happened last night. I don't remember if Mark Rhymes stayed out too late either. I found him to be a very slick and savvy. Quite a people person, very persuasive, a smooth talker. His words slide around you like the beer slid down my throat last night. Ah, beer. How I love you, yet how treacherous you are! All I know is that about 4am, I woke up back in my hotel room, with my mouth tasting like carpet. I'm still trying to put together what happened.

I got up a few hours later and went downstairs for breakfast, after a quick call in to work to call in sick again. I spoke to the call flow department, who deal with that sort of thing. They moaned about how there were a number of people calling in sick today. It seems the call centre industry, particularly in the directory enquiries subsector, has a lot of problems with staff retention and attendance, but I was pulling a genuine sickie this time, the hangover saw to that. I downed a gallon of coffee, put on my sunglasses and headed back to Tory HQ for another day of induction for A-List candidates.

It started well; and by lunchtime I felt assured of success. We headed over to the Houses of Parliament for lunch. I got my lunch (I was going to have a fry up to get over the hangover, but I felt sick, so had a banana fruit salad instead), and as we were queuing up to pay, an elderly and seemingly doddery and senile man was arguing with the cashier over the price of a cup of tea. He kept trying to pay one penny more. "That's Ming Campbell, leader of the Liberal Democrats," my Conservative colleague whispered to me. "This is where he's been hiding out all summer. Poor chap, he's had nowhere else to go. All on his own. He hasn't said a thing for months until just now."

The argument continued, until Ming finally lost it. "Do you know who I am?" he shouted.

"No," replied the cashier, quick as a flash, "and neither do the rest of the country!"

Nice retort. Oh, how I laughed. I would say the old ones are the best, but that's not true in Ming Campbell's case.

The afternoon went well, and I have to tell you, it was brilliant! And the best bit? I am now an A-List candidate! Must go now, I've been invited the Miss Tory T-Shirt competition hosted by the London West Conservative Bestiary tonight as a judge.

Joining the party at last

Latest news: I just had an e-mail from London, and I've been invited to an interview tomorrow at Conservative Party HQ in Victoria Street, Westminster. They've been so impressed by this blog that they're giving me special dispensation, waiving the membership fee, and want to interview me for A-List candidacy! I was astonished, but already my political career is taking off.

The only problem is I just started my new job at a call centre here in Ludlow on Monday. An agency lined it up for me. I do like my job, working for a well known directory enquiries firm that have just set up a branch here in Ludlow, but it's only my third day I'll have to pull a sickie. Ah well, I did vow to dedicate my life to the Conservative cause. Here's a photo of me at work!

Monkey with a blue rosette goes to work, watches football

Off to work I went. I arrived at Perspiration Betty's and immediately regretted it. When she asked about the bananas, I said I'd forgotten them (I'd actually eaten them on the way). Perspiration Betty showed me into a room with a phone and a bed, and told me to make myself comfortable. I was so excited, my first proper job, that I even got my photo taken before I started! Perspiration Betty then explained the job to me. I was to be an operator for an adult chat line! I couldn't last the course. My first call came through, and as I started to read from my script that I was "a naughty monkey", I just hung up on the caller. Perspiration Betty was furious. I said that I was a serious monkey with a blue rosette, with genuine political career aspirations, and it would only do me harm within the Conservative Party to continue working there another moment, so I left immediately. I didn't get paid.

Ah well, I'm off to the agencies tomorrow. I went round my mate Johan's place after quitting the job; he's a German football, and he'd TIVOed the football game from earlier. As you probably know, England lost. Look at the smug git grinning! I'm feeling even more down now. Will I ever get a decent job?

Joining the party

My congratulations to the blogger Daily Referendum. It's great news that he's joined the greatest political party in the world, the Conservative Party, and at last got his card.

It won't be long and I'll be joining too; I'm off in a few minutes to head over to Perspiration Betty's parlour to see about this job to earn some dosh for the membership fee. For some reason she said bring some bananas. I don't know why. I'll find out when I get there. See you later.

David Cameron speaks out on youth crime

I'm happy to have found out today that nice Mr David Cameron spoke out on youth crime. I'm glad he's been on about that; I get so tired of the local youths with their bottles of White Lightning coming round and throwing stones at me in my tree. Can't they leave a monkey with a blue rosette in peace? He's to look at tackling the problems of drugs, drink, debt and unemployment in the youth today too.

Speaking of unemployment, I was at Sweaty Noras Greasy poon having a banana sandwich, moaning about my need to find a job to save up £25 to join the Conservatives, when she mentioned that her sister, Perspiration Betty, has a job going where she works late at night, manning the phones. I'm going to go round later and check it out. I've also got some interviews lined up with some agencies too.

The expansion of the EU and job hunting

Vlad came round again last night, and we got talking about the European Union, and particularly the expansion of the EU. He welcomed Romania joining the EU, as well as Bulgaria, and we chatted about other states joining. He thought Moldova was a long way off joining though until it solved the problems of the separatist Transnistria region. I mentioned that I was undecided about Turkey joining the EU, and that's when it all went bad. Vlad went nuts. "Those accursed Ottomans," he yelled, "The blood that flows in these veins shall never forget even if I go on forever! The blood is the life! They who stole the Hagia Sophia and beat at the very gates of Vienna; we can never let them into Europe again!" He ran off screaming through the streets of Ludlow about avenging his people, and I felt quite scared.

I backed off at that point, and I decided there and then that I would work for Vlad no more. I checked how much money I had, just over ten pounds after my bacon sandwiches over the weekend (and as a treat my free banana sandwiches) at Sweaty Noras Greasy poon. So I got on the Internet and searched for jobs, as I may have only ten quid, but I need another fifteen quid to join the Tory Party. I found that I was not the only monkey looking for a job; in Mesa, Arizona in the USA, they have been looking to employ a monkey for the SWAT team. It's not bad wages, $100,000. Maybe the local police force are recruiting?

I phoned up the West Mercia Constabulary and got through to their non-emergency call centre in Worcester. After being passed around, I finally got through to HR, and made enquiries about joining up. For some reason they didn't quite believe that I would be wanting to join. They also probed my past, about when I was on the inside, before I escaped from the zoo, and I answered all questions truthfully; it would only come back to haunt me if I didn't. They were only recruiting police dogs at the moment, but I could be taken on as a force mascot. I asked about the pay, and they laughed and said it would be peanuts. They then hung up!

I was rather upset by this indignity, so I guess I won't be joining the police just yet. I could have made a great copper, it would have been an arresting sight! But I still have a great respect for the police, even though they didn't take me seriously. After all, David Davies MP is a special constable, and a jolly good one at that!

My so-called life

It has fallen to me to explain my current circumstances, and why I currently am seeking to change them. I live in a tree overlooking the Smithfield Car Park in Ludlow, Shropshire, and it's been quite a nice life, but it does tend to be quite a hand to mouth existence. I don't have a job, or rather, I do have a job, but it's a bit irregular.

Since the opening up of the European Union into Eastern Europe, there's been a lot of immigrants from the former Soviet bloc coming over. One of them is a friend of mine who occasionally gives me odd jobs to do, and his name is Vlad Ţepeş. I think he's possibly Hungarian, and I do odd jobs for him.

He's a good lad, is our Vlad, but he does keep odd hours. Like tonight. I've been working a lot for him of late, and he gives me notes to deliver, parcels to take to places. In fact, he's got a couple of monkeys apart from me doing errands, and the joke is that he's trying to do DHL and ParcelForce out of business, with his own MonkeyForce. That's how I managed to save up for this laptop I'm writing this on, and I'm now using it by stealing a stray wireless collection that I think comes from a strange lady who keeps a lot of cats and wears smelly old cardigans down the street. I think she's possibly a novelist, or a Liberal Democrat, although she doesn't wear sandals. Anyway, checking into the router to see what other users/thieves of the unsecured wireless signal are looking for, I see that there's a lot of "pussy" being looked for anyway, so that's why I suspect it's her. Because of her cats.

Anyway, tonight Vlad came round and asked me to take a parcel round to one of his lady friends. I said, yeah, no problem, Vlad me old mate, and off I went, like a monkey after a banana. He used to pay me peanuts, but I renegotiated my understanding with him, and he pays me in cash, has done for a while, that's how I got my laptop. Anyway, I was on my way, and silly me! I tripped, and the package opened and I saw what was inside.

I knew Vlad was into some dodgy stuff, but no questions asked, cash in hand, I was his man (or monkey). But it's medical supplies of some red stuff from down the Ludlow Community Hospital! There was no harm done to the package, so I delivered it to a very foxy chick with a Romanian accent who gave me a twenty pound note as a tip, so that's me sorted for the weekend. What's more she had a fit sister too who looked the same, maybe twins? But they spurned my advances, however, saying they had some studying to do. To prove it, they showed me a copy of Teach Yourself Estonian and How to recover from surgery that they had been reading. I got out of there.

I don't know though. My conscience is bugging me. I'm going to have to stop working for Vlad. The Conservatives are the party of enterprise and promise, so I need to find a proper job to fund my future. Membership of the party doesn't come cheap, at 25 quid a pop!