“I say Carruthers I was, only a moment ago, stuck in the lift with the plebs again. The thing is I overheard someone saying that our young secretary Tiffany is an Orexic no less. What the bleddy hell is an Orexic?”
“Search me. I’m only guessing here yet I’m pretty damn sure you’ll find it’s a new-fangled religion of sorts. Sounds a bit like an off shoot of one of those orthodox thingy’s the Greeks and the Ruskies go in for in a big way.”
“Crikey that could pose a bit of a problem methinks. I mean here at the Foreign Office its ‘C of E’ or you’re on your bike – keeps the Jonny Foreigners at bay and all that!”
“True. I think we need to have a word with the girl – point out to her the error of her judgement. Tell you what why don’t we invite her out for a spot of lunch? Easier to talk privately out of the office don’t you think?”
“Blindingly good idea old chap. We can take her to Raj’s place and fill her face with all the curried dishes she can manage. Stuff her up with food something rotten. She’ll like that – do her good you know, having a bit of a treat on us. Yes the more I think of it the more I like this idea.”
“Right then I shall have a word forthwith – see you over the curry shop.”
“I’ll see you there. If I’m not mistaken we’re about to make the girl’s day!”
PLAINLY A TALE OF INSENSITIVITY!