The Hawthorne Effect - Ode to Mr. Benson

Yesterday was our annual work ‘away day’. Suffice to say the only reason I attend these pedantic and usually utterly pointless sessions is:

I get to laugh at seeing my colleague wearing their ‘casual’ clothes.

I get to eat lots.

I don’t have to spend the duration of my day glued to this freakin’ computer.

Yesterday was no different, although it was more enjoyable than I had first anticipated as a) Whilst doodling I invented several promising cartoon characters- I shall post these once I have able to gain access to the office scanner b) the food buffet was Indian and c) I didn’t start to nod off until 3ish. In my humble estimations that’s pretty darned good going.

Of course upon my return to the flat, my evening was blighted by the piss poor television schedule. A series of phone calls when I arrived home scuppered my plans of developing my ISS Soccer Pro Evolution 5 skills further much to my annoyance and soon my general apathy took over whilst I watched with scorn and much resentment ITV’s ‘Britain’s Youngest Drinkers” which they clogged the schedule up with for a whopping 1 and a half hours. Chavs and Vikki Pollards in much abundance.

Whilst it was indeed sad that today’s youth enjoy drinking hideous alcoholic concoctions such as WKD is doesn’t really seem a whole lot different from when I was a lad- except that it appeared easier to get served in a pub when I was a rambunctious under age drinker (God Bless you Frank’s Bar). Its only endearing quality was one of the ‘kids’ was called Staci. No ‘y’ or ‘ie’ –crap modern adaptations of names amuse and annoy me greatly in equal measure.

What appeared to be sadder was the fact that you have a group pf 14 year old smashed out of their tiny little minds, whist a film crew obviously encourage their actions by filming them and no doubt provoking them. I hear the hallowed words from my old Sociology teacher, Mr. Benson “…The hawthorn effect” echoing through my tiny little mind. I’m sure he would be proud of this reference, after our last encounter on the day of my A Level results whereupon he just shook his head slowly in mild disgust and contempt after discovering that after two years of his tutorage and hard work, I could only muster a grade U. (I have included a photo of his look-a –like Bob Carrolgies in his honour)

Where did ITV discover these little tear ways? Did they follow a trail of empty cider bottles through the local park? Or put up an advert in the local Off Licence? Anyway- it did nothing to kerb my newly discovered medical condition- TV Tourettes. Rather than a usual tirade of sarcastic comments regarding the bilge Lisa and I watch- I have now inexplicably found myself barking random insults and the hallowed goggle-box. I am on a steady road to ruin and predict within a few short years I shall no doubt evolve into a Father Jack Hackitt type crank. The slovenliness of my appearance too is a cause for concern. Perhaps a shave is in order?