Carter he did actually accept from me a NAPIT certificate from which he only recored the reference number ( He had never heard of NAPIT ) at first he wanted a NICEIC one only!
He phoned head office to check if NAPIT one was acceptable.
Jeez! You've got to despair of the slackwitted buttmonkeys who dream these schemes. It's a right arsing mess isn't it. Talk about left and right hands not knowing what the other ones doing. It's an object lesson in never giving a pen pusher even the slightest opportunity for their closeted stupidity to f*ck up someone's life. But no, what do we do? we elevate them, then we give them the opportunity and (unbelievably) the authority to put the ****ing boot in. Then we reward them with a honking salary and pension. Even your man (supposedly 'at the coal face') didn't realise that insisting on an NIC only cert would constitute a promotion of, or complicity in, a cartel and therefore illegality. I've got a bit of a short fuse for that sort of officious ignorance (as I think you've probably gathered) so the sum of all my thoughts to him would have been "Oh just p*ss off mate and read a book then come back when you know what you're talking about!"
I'm just off outside now to beat my head off the pebbledashing as it's a lot less aggravating than hearing about yet another failed example of "joined up governance".
Clench and.....ow!....ow!....ow!....f*cking OW!....ow!.....continue to unconciousness.
Or is this a sneaky ploy to avenge Agincourt!
The Life of King Camelspit the Fifth
SCENE III. The English camp before the field of Agincourt
enter stage right:
MONTJOY - The Meter Man and Herald of the French Constable
Once more I come to know of thee, good Sparke,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow:
In mercy,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
Thy followers of our FAQs leaflet; that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off this job, where, poor wretches, their bodies
Must lie and fester.
KING CAMELSPIT V
Fer feck's sake! Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY
The Constable of France, in that van yonder.
KING CAMELFLOB V
I pray thee, bear my former answer back "p*ss off":
Bid them achieve me and then sell my tools.
Good God! why should they mock poor sparkys thus?
The man that once did write the form out
While the beast was de-energized, was killed with the testing of it.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Find sweeter jobs; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's graft:
And those that leave their valiant bones in service cupboards,
Dying like men, though buried in your paperwork,
They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours up to heaven + overtime + mileage;
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark then the abounding valour in our English trades,
That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of Part P certification.
Let me speak proudly: tell the f*cking c*ntstable
We are but warriors for the working-day;
And we hath better things to do than dick about with thee and thy bollox
Our gayness and our overalls are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching to the painful sites;-
And time hath worn us into slovenry:
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
And my poor sparks tell me, yet 'ere night
They'll be pulling off the job or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French desk-jockey's' heads
And turn them out of service. If they do this,--
As, if God please, they shall,--my ransom then
Will soon be levied and you can go whistle for't
Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle meter dude:
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have as I will leave 'em them,
Shall blow them across the hallway, so tell your garlic munching constable.
MONTJOY
I shall, King Camelspit. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more.
KING CAMELSPIT v
Too right pal, now do one! lest thou desirest to feel the toe-capped wrath of my regal rigger boot!
exeunt Montoy, in a right Gallic strop.
Wih apologies to Will Shakespeare,
SCENE III. The English camp.
