HOW LOW CAN I GO

I've had some pretty shit days of late. But today took the biscuit. Barely had I got my arse under the desk than my personality-challenged boss appeared. He wanted a chat, and he wasn't smiling.

Seems I hadn't been impressing in my new role. I was making too many mistakes and I was no longer wanted. I'm to be taken down from my dispiriting, dehumanising job to one that will surely be the end of me.

But that wasn't all. A cock-up of elephantine proportions the other day has reached the ears of the complaints department. Even though it really wasn't my fault.

It was Monday. A guest was late in arriving. I found him, brought him to the studio and put him on air. He was awful: hardly spoke English, knew nothing about his specialist subject and made us all look like fools.

A few minutes later the real guest materialised. He'd been waiting in a different reception area and hadn't told me of his arrival.

Sadly, in this case I couldn't cite mistaken identity. You see whereas the guy who went on air was a francophone African whose knowledge of technology was limited to setting the video, the real man was a lean, bearded man - who was white!

So now there's been a complaint - from whom, I know not. I could be in serious trouble. Maybe now's the time to call it a day?

Certainly, if I ever needed extra excuses to make my exit, the past few days have provided them. Trouble is, I wanted to leave on my terms, not on theirs. To leave now, on a low, as a bumbling failure, is not my idea of going out with a bang.