Strolling out with the dog last night I heard the commentary on the 8.05 from Tipperary as I passed a betting shop. A horse by the name of Ranzar was in the running. I was taken aback. Could it be that someone has named a horse 'Ramsarse'? Surely this wouldn't be allowed by The Turf Club or whatever regulatory body governs this sport. It put me in mind of a former 'senior' manager alluded to in an earlier posting - Ramsarse, a thoroughly ineffectual leader whose career - if he ever had the ambition to have one - was dealt a serious blow by the publication of what follows at about the time of his arrival at this institution.
Ramsarse, in retrospect had no ambition. He was parachuted in from a neighbouring (and 'rival') institution and appointed (at the second attempt to fill the vacancy by the institution) by a former buddy of his, a pint-sized thuggish knobhead whose extramarital affairs elicited comment from even the most reserved of colleagues. Ramsarse, in short, was a veteran of the Voluntary Redundancy Circuit having had a couple of payouts before he was dropped on to his desk here, one assumes in the hope of another golden handshake. He never did anything except make his presence felt at meetings, expressed his love of blacksmithing, read and wrote novels - all on the company's time. A leader he was not. Which of course meant that the shite-hawks in the institution would exploit this weakness.
Needless to say the University of Wretchington went from strength to strength, by its own standards. Read on.