His train journey begins a full three hours before the official working day, yet Bonzo still arrives first into the office at around eight-fifteen. His ears about five minutes earlier.

Benjy's voice can be heard several minutes before he makes his somnambulant entrance. An immediate exchange of unpleasantries ensue with one and all before a concluding "morning w*****s" finds him seated at his desk.

Pickles breezes in on the wind, says something, does something, spills something and leaves as swiftly as his chaos allows.

The Deputy arrives at the same time as his nickname, and they are greeted together with an enthusiastic, if somewhat sarcastic welcome.

Several other front office 'hoorays' come and go in the interim, leaving their conversational mark on the morning proceedings. A football comment, a civility, an insincerity, or all three.

Eight-thirty-ish, and reception is under the capable hands of Lassie, while the man purporting to be the boss wallows sumo-like in the goldfish bowl he keeps as his office. Spot can be seen industriously attending to his newspaper, mug of coffee and custard cream, opposite the Deputy.

Time stands still as possibly Pip, just maybe perhaps may have slipped in, unnoticed and ungreeted into his corner. Perchance to work.

The perfumed and coiffured glamour is welcomed into the office, neatly counterbalanced by the arrival of the aged duo Patch and Rover.

Rambo arrives between nine and nine-thirty and Benjy arrives again. Benjy's second coming includes a bacon sandwich and some more evenly distributed abuse.

Pickles, now 'front office' has made many appearances (or sorties) into the 'back office', leaving behind him confusion and laughter, files, letters, cups of tea, general chaos and more laughter. Laughter an essential ingredient for survival in this environment.

My own, Butch, arrival takes place whenever. My timekeeping as inconsistent as my bowel movements. My bowel movements as changeable as the wind.

'F*****g' Fido would have arrived on 'f*****g' time if it wasn't for the 'f*****g' trains that 'f****d' up his 'f*****g' journey. Consequently at twenty-five past nine a cheesed off (for want of a politer phrase) Mr Fido flaps in with his rage.

All present and correct, then I'll begin.

The end