all da girls standing in da line for da bathroom...alldagirlzstandinindalinefordabathroom...

We are visited by a smart-suited, BMW-driving delegation of GMB Officials, although Mrs K is not told and does not know.

Mrs Shits and the other office clerks and typists are in rebellious mood. 

The Best Legs at Bannatynes tells us, after her stint on Office Fags, that Mrs K has told them all to stop piddling in her private cludgie.

Mrs K's cludgie is only for HER use and for use by visiting dignitaries and Mrs Sith (on her daily visits to check on the Mrs S soap which, The Slickest Stair Polisher in Tillydrone has been informed, is about to enter a new and dramatic phase).

Apparently Mrs K dropped in past a famous MP FP when shopping for marble phalluses phalli phalluses from Thermoopolae Thermopolae and was given a few handy hints on assertiveness and showing who's boss.

The GMB delegation suggest immediate STRIKE action, before driving off in their Beamer for lunch at The Olive Stalk.

Very Senior Men in diced caps with braid on them attend for very confidential meeting with us big girls.

We are sworn to secrecy.  We are asked to chorus that we will not tell any third parties about what we are about to be asked about the SSSSSSSSSSSS.

We all make affirmative gestures and noises.  The sooks can be heard saying 'Yeeeeeeesssss, Chief Superintendent.'

Loudest of all:  the slightly-high-in-complexion High Priestess of Sookerupperism - One Bag of Cheese n' Onion.

The Third Generation Pole is seen to be crossing her fingers, behind her back, as she goes along with all the collective swearing.

The SSSSSSSSSS is believed to be infiltrating US.

Have any of US been offered work when we reach our 18th birthdays?

Have any of US who are 18 already been paid for pleasing men?

Have any of US who are 18 posed for adult-type photographs?  For photographs which could...aherm...best be described as...aherm...of an adult or...aherm,aherm,aherm... obscene...ahermmmmmmmmmm...pornographic nature?

Have any  18+ beautiful ones among US, with good legs and most pleasing cleavage, been cajoled or bribed into sitting, pished-rotten, in various expensive, flash, Aberdeen nightclubs....AAAAAHERMMMMM...on the toilet....with their designer silk panties pulled down to their  tanned, trim, tightly-gripped knees...aheraherahermaherMM....cough....cough....cough....

Has the SSSSSSSSS actually...(swallow)... penetrated the St Anonimous Sixth Form...(swallow,swallow)...perhaps...(sweating brow mopped with white cotton handkerchief pulled from uniform trousers pocket past utility belt/handcuffs/telescopic baton/csgascannister)...perhaps...clandestinely? 

The Third Generation Pole is heard to snigger before covering it up with a coughing fit.  She moves into distraction mode.

Sitting right in front of the Chief Super, The Third Generation Pole Sharon Stones him, TWICE.

The very senior Fuzz twitches.   His face goes beetroot.  His glasses steam-up.  He stammers.  He stutters.  He loses his train of thought.  He drops his papers and has to watch the Third Generation Pole kneel down in front of him, knees back modestly together, helpfully picking up his documents for him with a most interesting degree of cleavage poked in his face as she gets up and places everything on his lap, smiling.

The Third Generation Pole sits back down, knees demurely tight together.  She nips her lower lip with her top teeth, she tilts her head to the side, she smiles.

'Chief Superintendent, I don't like to say it but there is SOMEONE who takes photographs of us....lots of photographs, actually...in school...'

The Best Legs At Bannatynes is seized by an uncontrollable, snorting coughing fit and has to rush out of the room, closely followed by The Slowest Empties Collector in Cults.

THEY didn't think that WE would let THEM, with impunity, arrest and subsequently harass Sgt Eros, did THEY?

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