So, it’s Sunday night. The sense of impending doom overcoming your entire body and soul is so powerful that no amount of Netflix, pizza or snuggles with teddy (or your partner…pffff…) can help drown out the perpetually crescendoing Jaws theme tune that is soon to be all that can be heard. Those nice pancakes you had for breakfast this morning? Forget them. The pjs you were wearing until 2pm this afternoon? They’ll be long gone by the time 7am comes round. And as for sleep? Well…there’s always next weekend to catch up on that. That is…unless…there was some way of not going to work tomorrow. Cat videos and slippers could prevail, and the world would be a better place once again! Pahaha…dream on you fools. These excuses would NEVER work. Or would they?…
1. I appear to have woken up in a good mood, and I would quite like not to ruin it.
2. I got lucky last night and I don’t know where I am. Because, London.
3. The tram has broken. (No one gets the tram – including you – but they’ll never know).
5. Foxes having sex kept me up all night, causing me to sleep through…
6. Yes, until 3pm on Tuesday afternoon.
8. And my suit caught fire after attempting to dry it in the microwave.
9. I can no longer see because the glasses I bought have no lenses in them.
10. Because they were from Shoreditch.
12. Because there are no eligible men in London, I have a cat. Which somehow managed to turn off my alarm clock.
13. Having lived in London for so long now, my tolerance for people has died. And I need to have a funeral for it.
15. I accidentally got on a plane thinking it was the tube.
16. I hate work.
17. I’ve got a doctors note…
