Scott and his penis

Scott:
A purring penis would be disturbing.

Rebecca:
Yes, like... "Ah, what's that? Oh, its Scott's contented penis"

Scott:
And that's not a phrase I want to hear very often. Though "Scott's contented penis" would be a good name for a band.

Rebecca:
Well maybe "contented penis" remove the "Scott"

Scott:
No, it has to be "Scott's contented penis". If you can have "Butthole Surfers" you can have "Scott's contented penis"

Scott on James's excel goodness with dwarves

James:
It needs to be said sometimes: damn I'm good.

After years of wondering I finally applied myself to working out how to make a column in an Excel spreadsheet automatically number itself so that a print-out will have row numbers, and have those row numbers appear automatically when new rows are added and (most importantly) not break when a row is deleted.

It took me ten minutes. I suppose I just got lucky on the Google searches and Excel help searches.

Amusingly, my solution is much better than Microsoft's official one, which breaks when you insert or delete rows in the middle of the list.

So yeah, I rock. I am Captain Excel!

Scott:
Indeed, you are an excel god. Which means, of course, I'm going to pester you even more with inane questions.

James:
I can tell you how to automatically number rows. :D

Scott:
Which i actually need to know since I've been tasked with revising the monster spreadsheet I built for the cancellations team 2 years ago

Michelle:
see - there is a purpose to James going off and learning things about Excel

Scott:
Indeedle. Now can he tell me why the previous updater of my once glorious spreadsheet decided to obscene things to it?

James:
Foetal alcohol syndrome?

Michelle:
whoever it was was an idiot

Scott:
Correct! A winner is you! George, what prize is our lucky contestant winning tonight?

Thank you Alfred, tonight's lucky winner a small psychotic angry dwarf that will stare balefully at him from under his desk while he works and occasionally bite his PC power cable.

James:
I'll come back next week and see if I can win something that won't cause nightmares.

Michelle:
I knew we couldn't keep you off dwarves for long

Scott:
I'm going to turn it into an internet meme

James:
It will be huge, and dwarf all others...

Scott:
*canned audience laughter* Well you can certainly try but we all know how likely that's going to happen on Shub-Niggurath's Wheel of Soul Destroying Torment, Australia's favourite quiz show!

James:
"AAAAAaaaAAAAaAAArgh!!! Oh god make it stop! Make it stoooooop!!!"
"...is that your final answer?"

Scott and dwarves

Scott:
Can we have a new PA please? Our current one is a sucky dwarven prima donna.

James:
You and psychotics dwarves. It getting to become a habit.

Scott:
I can give it up any time I like.

James:
Don't make me stage an intervention...

Scott:
I'm not addicted to psychotic dwarves! I just need them from time to time to get by, you know how it is...

James:
It'll get to a point where you need one or two dwarves just to wake up in the morning. Next you'll be going to the horse races just to follow the jockeys around. You're on a downward spiral!

Scott:
I only need one or two psychotic dwarves to get me started in the morning. Sure, I may occasionally need a another one round my midday, but I need psychotic dwarves to keep me on top of the game. They keep me sharp and in control. Hell, with the stresses people face in the cut throat world of bureuacracy I'm not the only one doing a little angry dwarf from time to time!

James:
I hope you're at least using clean dwarves and not sharing them with others. You can pick up all sorts of nasty bugs doing that.

Scott:
I only share my dwarves with people I know

Michelle:
I now has a nice clean desk, with no clutter, no junk and no dust - however, I will soon have to move around to my new desk (once Rachael packs up), and unpack all my junk and return to chaos

Scott:
And dwarves, don't forget those.

Michelle:
how could I forget the dwarves?

Scott:
You could if you had the shakes from psychotic dwarf withdrawal.

James:
Remember the Dwarven Alamo!

Michelle:
*throttles James*

puhlease - no bad dwarf jokes...

Scott:
What about good dwarf jokes?

Michelle:
there are any?

James:
Why did the dwarf cross the road?

The torment Scott for its own nefarious purposes.

Scott:
*Knock knock*.
"Who's there?"
"Psychotic dwarf."
"Psychodatic dwarf whoarrrrgggh!!!" *squelchy stabbing sounds*

Scott attempts to quit his gym membership

Scott:
And so the tortuous, kafka-esque process of having my Fitness First membership cancelled has begun...

James:
"Hi, I'd like to cancel my membership. My account number is 3588201-"
"No! You are Number 6!"
"Uh... okay... well, anyway, my name is Scott-"
"Your name is Number 6!"
"Look, I just want to cancel my membership."
"You wish to leave us, Number 6?"
"Um... could I talk to someone else?"
"No! You will deal with me!"
"Okay, if you won't escalate to a supervisor, I'm going to make a complaint. What's your name?"
"I am the New Number 2."
"..."
"..."
"...you're called Number 2?"
"Yes."
"Kind of drew the short straw on that one, didn't you?"

Scott:
Apparently I must speak personally to a Customer Service Manager, a fabled beast which apparently does not exist, or at least does not have easy access to a phone. Its possible the phone has been placed at the top of a very tall mountain and the Customer Service Manager must climb said mountain using only their wits, a spork and a narcolpetic angora rabbit as a pack animal as some kind of test of their commitment to being a Quality Customer Service Manager of Quality.

Yay, she made it to the top of the mountain and there was still enough movement in her near-frozen fingers to operate the phone! And apparently enough movement in her lips to be able to tell me that Fitness First requires 4 weeks notice of a cancellation and they'll still bill me twice more before the cancellation comes into effect. Apparently I should also be grateful that this means I can still use the gym for the next 4 weeks.

James:
She should be grateful for your foot up her arse.

Scott goes to see Transformers

I could just see myself in the audience, I'd be like a confused old man.

"Wait, what's happening? Who's that guy?"
"Scott, that's one of the Cheesicons, remember from earlier?
"But why's he look like the other guy?"
"He doesn't, look you can see the tiny cheese head logo on his chest plate. The other robot's got the little goat head icon."
"Which bits the chest plate? I can't tell if I'm looking at the back or the front! Why won't someone tell me what's happening?! Wait, are we in Egypt now? I thought we were in Paris. Why does Paris have pyramids?"

Scott writes a farewell speech...

Um. I have to prepare a 'certificate of appreciation' for one of my staff who's decided to take VR, detailing her work history and the sort of person she is. Only, she's been on long term sick leave for about 2 years now (ongoing cancer treatment) and I've never actually supervised her, nor even met her. This will be interesting.

"[Departing staff member] may or may not have been an excellent employee with a distinguished/appalling career in [insert department of choice]. I have known this staff member for zero years and can personally attest to her amazing ability to do many unspecified things. It is with great sadness that we wave farewell to her and we know that the hole left by her permanent absence will undoubtedly be greater than the hole left by her temporary absence."

Scott is a poet...

Rebecca:
Clearly your train being a tad late didn't matter too much

James:
Does any of it matter in the great scheme of things?
*drinks absinthe*
*writes dreary poetry*

Scott:
Greyness pervades my everlasting soul.
Death! Blackness and death!
I am but porridge in the bowl of truth;
your spoon is cold.

Scott and his arse moles

Argh! I don't want cthuluesque arse moles!

Scott visits Nigeria...

Hello!!!11!!!

My name is Nkware Gamba, I am a Prince of the royal house of Gabon, and I urgently need your help to transfer $10millllion dollars out of my country!!11!!eleventy!!!

If you are kind enough to assist me, I shall be pleased to pay you a fee of $50000 dollarrs Euro!!!1! Please, for this I must have from you some bank details and your name!! Also, your addresS!! Also, your eldest daughter!!! Also, your favourite pop albums from the 1980s!!eleventy!! Also, wooden boat not less than 40ft long and not less than 10 feets wide!! Also, a small troupe of performing weasels trained to perform Glengarry Glen Ross!! Also, the secret of fire!! If these things you provide to me I shall be pleased to give you $5000 Euro dollarsss US!!@!!!

Scott and the sea shanties

Scott:
Its sea shanty time!

ooooooooooooh, I am a public servant
and I sail the bull shit sea!
I wrap things up in bright red tape
and rubber stamp your head with glee!

Michelle:
Fifteen visas on a public servant's desk

Scott:
Thar she blows! Policy whale off the starboard bow!

Michelle:
down among the dead applications...

James:
Oh, I'll file ye letter all right... I'll file it in Davy Jones's Locker...

Scott determines name changes

"Its says here you wish to change your name from.... Siddie Fartenbarry. Is this correct?"
"Yes."
"And that you wish to change it to.... Brassiere Hyperconundrum."
"Yes."
"You don't consider your choice of name unusual?"
"Compared to Fartenbarry?"
"Point taken. This request is approved."

Scott is a philosophical humanist...

Rebecca:
I couldn't work with her, she's nuts as far as I am concerned.

Scott:
And not in the entertaining "lets build a giant robot to take over the world" kind of nuts either.

James:
Which I find extremely disappointing.

Scott:
There's not enough of the kind of nuts around these days, everyone's always so serious when they go crazy now.

Rebecca:
I WANT TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!
Where are my giant robots?

Scott:
You've managed to encompass the entire human condition into that one question.

Scott suffers a warp core breach...

So [co-worker] calls in to say he's sick and is seeing the doctor later today. That's cool. But then he expands...

"I want him to, um, check out these lumps."

*danger, Will Robinson! danger!*

"I think they might be those things, you know, um, haemorrhoids."

*Cap'n, we've taken a direct hit!*

"And well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm thinking they might be responsible for a, uh, smell that kinda... wafts around my desk."

*shields failed, hull breach critical! We're going down!*

"Hehe, sorry, let me know if I've given you too much information."

*Sir, we've a report from sector 9. The SS Enterscott has gone down.
Rescue crews state there are no survivors.*

Scott names a pony...

[During a discussion about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.]

Rebecca:
I don't think that War's horse would be called War... probably something along the lines of "Crushing hooves of dispair"

Michelle:
probably Spot, unless Mrs War had a hand in naming him, of course

Scott:
It's called George, after George Michael. War is a massive Wham fan.

Scott fences some goods

Can I interest you in my sharp 'n' shiny wares? Guaranteed perfect for stabbing morons, idiots, nongs, wankers, peabrains, arseholes, noodle noggins, cabbage brains, dickheads, tosspots, f&$@tards and synapse bandits everywhere. You'd pay a fortune for these in any high street store but this is your lucky day as these little beauties have recently fallen off the back of a truck and are looking for a new home.

Scott knows about squirrels...

[Upon encountering a conversation about football...]

Gah, football. I'm about as excited as squirrel finding an oboe in his horde of nuts. (Its common knowledge that squirrels have high disdain for wind instruments.)

Scott has a superpower...

Scott:
I was told, "Oh I'm sorry Scott, we just assumed you knew...."
Yes indeed, apparently I am famed for siphoning information out of the ether with my long feather-like feelers attached to my head
*twitches feelers*
Oh my god! Pamela Anderson has been awarded the Nobel prize for chemistry!

James:
I think your feelers need calibrating.

Scott:
*twitches feelers*
yes.....she was awarded the prize for....practical applications of silicon products, specifically in relation to the enlumpenment of the human body

Scott is a car critic...

[Looking a possible new cars for a friend to buy.]

Corollas are okay. They're well-built. They also mean that you've stopped having sex and you're just waiting to die.

Scott imagines fish

After discussing this fish

Its socially ostracised by all the other fish.
F1: "Dude, I hope you didn't invite Gary to the party tomorrow..."
F2: "God no. Have you seen his head? Its, like, so gross."
F1: "Tell me about it, you can see, like, everything. It makes me sick just thinking about it."
F2: "Yeah, its....shit man, here he comes."
F3: "Bruce, Barry, wazzuuuuuup?"
F1: "Oh hey Gary."
F3: "So what are you guys up to? What's going down in your world? Yo bros, f'shizzle me rizzle! "
F1: "Nothing much, just waiting for something dead to drift by."
F3: "Yeah? Well I can't be hanging around jerking off with you guys all day, I gotta go find me some hos!"
F1: "See ya."
F2: "...........you know, that whole transparent head thing, I think its just a distraction."
F1: "What, you mean like he's trying to distract us from the fact he's a jerk?"
F2: "Yep. Come on, let's go find some weeds to swim in and out of."

Scott searches for the submersible helpdesk

"Hey, have you seen the tech support guys? I need some help."
"No, they've disappeared. Seem to have dropped off the sonar altogether."
"Sonar? Don't you mean radar?"
"Not with these guys. Keep an eye out for the periscopes, its the only way to track them but they can be difficult to spot."