Blog Name: Reggie Perrin

In Patagonia there are people who can play the flute through their nose. Why do they do this? I take the train to Waterloo every morning. Why do I do that?

When I get to my office I throw myself into the task of designing new and exciting disposable razor products. Sometimes I combine this with exercise. This morning, as I type this, I am clenching my buttocks for three seconds, then releasing and resting for five seconds. According to our resident 'Wellness' and irritating bitch person, exercise releases chemicals into the blood which help us to enjoy our 'space'. Steven Hawking, he likes space. Clearly, he must be constantly flexing his buttocks, when he's not interfering with wireless broadband and minicab control centres.

Here at Groomtech we relish the challenge of hair removal for the masses. This is our mission statement. It's been laminated, so it must be true. If only Richard Nixon had laminated his alibi then he would never have lost the presidency. Razors are always changing and we like to stay at the cutting edge. That's not on the mission statement, I just made that up. Making stuff up is what I do, which is why Groomtech is so big in the trouser department. Sorry, I meant grooming and personal beauty. The size of Groomtech's genitals have nothing to do with this at all. In Patagonia, hordes of nose flute players spend a fortune on our products, just so that they can ensure a fluff-free nasal passage, perfectly prepared for hours of nose-flute playing.

I am often asked where I get my ideas from, to which I normally reply "Parsnips". This makes me look deep, plus I get a slight sexual tingle from watching boring dick heads wrestle with the inherent zen qualities of this concept. Parsnips, as a means of constructing a framework within which we can rationalise our own existence, have been ignored for too long. I always keep some in my desk drawer, so that during tedious progress meetings I can fantasize about carving them into suggestive shapes and then stuffing them up the backsides of my desperately vile colleagues.

Well, time to get on. Another progress meeting is scheduled, in which we will discuss the progress we have made on reading the minutes of the last progress meeting in which we discussed what we willbe saying in the next progress meeting which is in five minutes. Just enough time for more buttock flexing.

Best to keep this anonymous though, in case the Patagonian Embassy gets wind of it. Through their noses, of course.