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Saturday, 11 February 2012

FIDDAMAN parody from June 2001

"capn plectrum" wrote in message






news:3b2fc4b9.79024513@news.earthlink.net...





> You've been off work for 2 years and already you are slacking off

> playing on your computer while you should be working?





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Fiddleman, have you finished collating those documents?



BOB: Umm...oh yes, I was just getting to those. And it's Fiddaman, sir.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Right. And just what *have* you been doing the past

three hours, Fiddaberg?





BOB: Oh.....well I've been, umm....





ROVER SUPERVISOR: I say, what's that you're writing there?





BOB: That? Oh it's nothing.......nothing, really.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Why it looks.....It looks like some sort of poetry,

Fiddenhoff!





BOB: It's Fiddaman, sir.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Right.





BOB: You see, these chaps in the AC/DC newsgroup have been having a go at

me...questioning my work ethic and such.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Well, I can't imagine why....





BOB: And I thought this poem might be a good way for me to publicly

humiliate myself even more egregiously than I already have.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: So, Fiddenowski, why exactly do you talk about your work

troubles in an AC/DC newsgroup. Isn't that some sort of rock band?





BOB: I do it because they talked about hockey once.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: You mean to tell me you've been on hiatus two years, and

you're composing poetry on company time halfway through your third day back

on the job? And look, it's not even any good.....it barely rhymes and your

structure is heinously amateurish. Fiddenstein, I'm going to have to

discuss this matter with Mr. Rover himself at the corporate offices. We may

have to place you on the Long-Term Please-For-The-Love-Of-God-Go-Away

Register.





BOB: I'm sorry sir, but if you continue to mispronounce my name, I'm going

to be forced to sue you, your entire family, and everyone you've ever met

for the heinously abusive mental anguish you're presently inflicting upon

me. And for good measure, I'll go home and pout for 10 years. Just watch

me.





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Fuddleman, I would advise you to collate those documents

with great brevity, as I've eight inches of dick-tation I need you to take

after that.





BOB: Could you just call me Poetboy?





ROVER SUPERVISOR: Oh shuttup, Fingleman

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