All the latest news from Enkalon House — now daily (one day a week), (twice a month)! August again 2015

*CILLA BLACK COMMEMORATIVE EDITION. CILLA BLACK, BORN PRISCILLA WHITE, 1943, DIED 2015* (Cilla song titles in brackets next to the headings)

I couldn’t emphasise this point more without actually emphasising it in the first place, but we’re now in August and you know what that means? Yes, you’re right, it’s almost Christmas. You have to admit, we’ve had a crazy year together haven’t we? I’ve watched you all blossom into the wonderful people you are today, from the hollow husks of the humans you were in January. It’s been like Invasion of the Body Snatchers in reverse. I’m so proud to be able to call you fellow Enkaloids. These are our glory days Enkaloids. It’s all downhill from here onwards. Enjoy!

Can I just point out that a) yes, I am a writer outside of this job, and 2) no, I am not the author of ‘Sex tips for straight women from a gay man’. That author just has the same name, hence I write under other names. My name is just really common. Blame my parents. But even so, for a small fee I will happily sign copies of the book.

So, Cilla eh? Bless her, she always reminded me of a young Geri Haliwell. Cilla really was the people’s queen of ITV Saturday evening shows of the 80s. There she was, lolloping on stage, hollering some horrible ear-curling song about love, lurching into the camera like she was going to look right into your soul and take it out for a dance. These were special times and I just feel sorry for anybody who wasn’t born then and who has since had to put up with presenters such as Vernon Kaye (Peter Kaye’s dad) and Claudia Winkleman (Claudia for god’s sake, give your mums make-up box a rest, there’s a love). At least we still have Brucie right? God bless that man, he’s an institution. Hang on, sorry, I meant he should be in an institution. Bruce, (born in a workhouse in 1876), gets on stage straight from the stair lift, does some ‘dancing’ which basically involves walking without falling over, clinging on to Vernon Kaye’s wife for dear life, and reading off what I imagine is the world’s largest Autocue (‘Can you see it Bruce? The writing is as big as we can make it!’), written by the world’s worst comedian. My other half loves him to bits, and what with the current climate of having all my childhood heroes currently being locked up one by one, I’m not going to be too harsh but you know, perhaps he should retire? Anyway, knowing my bad luck, he will have passed away by the time this newsletter comes out and I will be the most hated man in Enkalon. Again. Anyway, we’ll miss you Cilla. And just in case, we’ll miss you too Brucie.

(‘You’ll never walk alone’) The return.

As you may have noticed, I have returned from my holiday. If I leave Enkalon for too long, the tag around my ankle starts to buzz, and it’s really annoying. So yes, the golden skinned Greek-looking chap on the front desk is actually me. I know, hard to believe right?

(‘Surprise surprise’) The toilets.

The toilet seat (4th floor ladies) that had been replaced a few weeks ago has now also disappeared. Apparently, reports say it was there for about a day before going missing. So if anyone knows of a person walking around their office with a full-sized toilet seat about them (and no, ‘it’s just a large keyring’ won’t cut it with me), please let me know. Ladies, if you could go back to hovering until the new one arrives, that would be great, thanks. In other toilet news, once again crystalized urine has caused mayhem in one of the 5th floor urinals (it’s a race against time trying to finish passing water before it auto-flushes and suddenly you are wearing wet shoes. Think of it as a poor man’s Krypton Factor), and there has been a leakage from one of the pans in one of the ladies 4th floor cubicles. UPDATE: The toilet seat has now been replaced FOR THE SECOND TIME, and repairs have been carried out.

(‘Sweet inspiration’) The Winner.

Well done to Lynne Ramshaw, the winner of this month’s competition, for her correct answer of ‘Alan was known for his uncontrollable bouts of wind while pushing a shopping trolley’.

(‘Step inside love’) The most romantic carpark in Leicester.

There has been more evidence of Leicester-love in the car park. I have checked and re-checked (and re-checked) the cctv, but have found no footage of it, but there has definitely been something going on out there. Please can I ask you to just watch your step in the mornings and if there is anything that needs removing from the car park that I have missed (I’m dry-heaving as I write this), please come and see me, and I will put the hazmat suit on and get the sterilized tongs from the basement.

(‘It’s for you’) The new cigarette bin.

Well, it finally arrived! And this time there was no random old bucket — oh no, not for the smokers of Enkalon. No, this time I splashed out on a deluxe, attached to the wall (try taking this one, drunk naked dancing man!) edition. It even has a picture of a cigarette on it, just in case you forget what it’s for (please, no dog waste, thank you). I was going to have an official unveiling but unfortunately I could not get Alan Titchmarsh at such short notice (I was once involved with a ground force episode and boy, can that man smoke and swear). I left it a day and opened it to see how successful it had been and apparently only 8 people had had a cigarette. So either people have drastically given up smoking or they are still eating the cigarette ends. I’m not sure how many cigarette ends you can safely consume, but let’s start using the bin now and let’s not tell people you were eating them in the first place okay? Anyway, 8 is feeble — let’s try and get it up to 100 a week! Together we can do it! What a time to be alive!

(‘Someone’) The new tenants.

We may possibly have new tenants moving into the 4th floor within the month, so it goes without saying about please making them feel welcome. I will email when I have confirmation of dates. ‘Advance’, if you wouldn’t mind letting them park in their own spaces when they move in, that would be lovely, thanks.

(‘I don’t want to know’) The toilets. Part two. The revenge.

Well it saddens me to have to bring you the news that the toilets have recently fallen into states that can only be described as ‘dirty protest’, ‘David Attenborough’s most disgusting animals’ and ‘Stig of the dump has a bad day’. Even more surprising is that this time it is the ladies toilets that have been the cause of misery. Surprising because as far as I was aware, girls didn’t need to use toilets (looks like you lied to me Mum). So there are some signs that are going up in the toilets regarding Bathroom Etiquette. I have made these for hygiene reasons in the building, and also for our poor cleaners who I don’t want to push towards a nervous breakdown. Let’s just say the latest code-brown incidents happen to involve soiled tissue paper on the floor and wall (again people, why the walls??), and no flushing attempted of what had been deposited in the toilet pan. If this keeps happening, I will be purchasing a DNA testing kit. And I don’t think any of us want that, do we?

Right, so we are all on the same page when referring to certain toilet disasters, please see right for a code chart:

Apart from the above, there isn’t too much to report for this newsletter so let me leave you with this heart-warming picture instead. It’s a kitten! With a hat on! A frog hat! Look at it! Go on, look at it! Has your heart swelled? Has it? Isn’t this just as cute as a button?? NO?!? YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER.

(This kitten literally loves you and all you can do is hate it?? Look at its eyes! How can you live with yourself??)