Braunias on Joyce

This week’s Steve Braunias is rather good. An extract:

Just as I sit down for breakfast the phone rings and it’s Sky CEO Nigel Morrison demanding I come over right now and go through new costings for the convention centre or the whole deal is off. No problem. I grab toast, sausages, tomatoes, hash browns and a lamb chop to go, and scamper across town.

He presents the figures and draws up an architectural plan and says that without government funding the conventional centre will be minus windows, light bulbs and women’s toilets on the third floor.

I tell him if you carry the two and divide by six and move that column over to the left and this column over to the right and shake it all about then it’s entirely possible to make an allowance for three windows and five light bulbs on the second floor.

“Tell you what, sport,” he says. “Gizzus that toast in your pocket and we’ll throw it in the women’s toilets on the sixth floor.”

I weigh up the toast and figure I can always get my hands on some more down the line so I narrow my eyes and say to him, “Deal.”

It’s only when I get back to the office that I remember the convention centre doesn’t have a sixth floor.

Heh.

And:

Just as I sit down to microwave yesterday’s breakfast the phone rings and it’s my mole in the America’s Cup syndicate saying that Dean Barker is in for the chop and without him any chance of winning the next series is lost. No worries. I grab sausages, tomatoes, hash browns, and a lamb chop to go, and head for the waterfront.

I figure that if I delegate one or two minor responsibilities to the Prime Minister then I’ll be able to find the time to helm the black boat to victory, but first I just need a bit of practice.