Some people annoy me to such a degree I find myself fantasizing about cracking their skulls open like giant boiled eggs and scoffing their brains with a few toasted soldiers on the side. Sadly, I’ve had one of said annoying idiots bleating on in my hearing instruments all week and my patience is at tipping point…

A chap I sit near in the office is a right old ladies man. Reckons he’s the monkey’s bananas, he really does. He’s tried it on with 99% of the girls in the office, often with great success and when it’s not a colleague he’s always got some other new ‘fancy-piece’ on his arm.

Not that this in itself is a problem. If he wants to get out there and tickle the tupence of every person in Christendom this is neither here nor there to me.

The issue is that he has just met a girl that he actually likes. Properly, really, seriously likes.

Has he stopped banging on about it?

Nope.

Have I had a second’s peace from his incessant gloating?

Not a one.

Now, I’m as over-the-button-moon as the next person about people falling for one another and I totally understand that those first few weeks are a magical time that a few months down the line only Paul Daniels himself could recreate. But Holy Cockerels, this bloke will not shut his pie-hole for love nor money.

Seven times in this very morning he has impressed upon me his ‘changed man’ status. Three times last week I had to hear about the surprise holiday he is taking her on next month. And yesterday he even mentioned a Christmas Eve marriage proposal “Christmas? CHRISTMAS! It’s bloody August and you’ve only been together 2 weeks,” I yelled into his gormless, gleeful features. It didn’t stop his yabbering.

Like reformed addicts, ex-smokers or born-again religious types, people who play-the-field and then fall in love often become evangelical zealots – standing on street corners with megaphones, yelling at passers-by about the ‘glory of coupling’ and the ‘errors of our single ways’. Urgh. Get a grip.

Fortunately for me, you and all of us, these periods in which new lovers ‘see the romantic light’ is decidedly short. It usually ends the first time they come across their partner’s skid-marked underwear on the bedroom floor – or something equally off-putting. So I’m hoping that this chap comes across his new missus waxing her tash or picking her earwax soon, otherwise I shall have to remove my giant teaspoon and whack his stupid headbone until delicious gray brain yolk spills over into my gaping mouth…

And may I just note that my frustration has got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am that lowly 1% of colleagues he hasn’t bothered to pull, nothing at all, not a single bit.

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