Handy McHand

In an effort to stave off boredom and office fever, I have employed a side-kick in the form of my right hand.
This gloveless puppet has so far scared off people who take some hellish and twisted pleasure in winding me up with THAT nickname*. When they approach my desk with an eager grin I just raise my right hand and Handy McHand does the talking for me. He speaks in limericks and poetry. He doesn't suffer from such weaknesses as conscience and politeness. He frightens them off and makes them think that the mundane and endless task of processing mpans (Don't ask) has driven me to despair. Perhaps it has.
I would heartily recommend adopting a surreal tic to fight against the tide of tedium that is the nine-to-five grind. I wouldn't suggest Cocky McCock. That may be a mascot too far.

I sent a picture of myself and Mr McHand to various friends via the amusing medium of MMS. Both The Steve! (TM) and David J responded by sending me their mascots. It's a shame I can't get pictures on here at the moment.


* People refer to me as either 'James' or 'Dreyfus'. Sometimes both. Apparently, I resemble the floundering idiot from The Thin Blue Line and the awful Gimme, Gimme, Gimme. I can't see it and my closest friends and family can't really see the likeness, but a lot of people have approached me and informed me that I "look just like that guy from that thing...". These are usually the same fools that make 'witty' remarks about my last name.
"Huh, huh, huh (idiotic laughter) MASTER Bate!". I love it when they think they are the first person to spot the well-worn gag. For the even less inspired I get "FISH Bate".
I'd like to shoot these people out of a cannon.