Office DJ: the six twattiest self-appointed workplace titles

WORK is something to get through to get paid, but some dickheads perversely desire recognition from their colleagues. These are the most egregious self-stylings:

Office DJ

All it took was a Bluetooth connection for this guy’s grip on the speaker to become a chokehold. Constantly adding tracks and checking for reactions to his musical journey, he believes himself to be dictating the office mood and rhythm. He’s played the same Keane song three times in an hour.

Team comedian

Maverick morale booster whose idea of a mid-morning zinger is emailing a gif last popular in 2014. If ever given the opportunity will force you to watch an eight-minute supercut of Super Hans from Peep Show. You’ll force laughter until your manager catches and reprimands you.

The quizmaster

Has missed the memo that quizzing’s over now we’ve all got smartphones. Leaps at any opportunity to set a quiz, constantly showing off their knowledge of river lengths, attends pub quizzes most weeknights and will one day drag you along, where you’ll cringe yourself inside-out while they dispute every other answer.

Festivities organiser

Keeps a record of every employee’s birthday. Buys the card a week before so it can be passed around and signed. Goes out at lunchtime to buy the present. Ensures the birthday boy or girl buys a suitable cake. Sends the email asking everyone to gather at the desk for the cake and to sing. Does f**k all work.

Mr Lover Lover

Horny. Wants everyone to know it. Leaps on any opportunity for innuendo. Has not got laid in three years.

The only sane one here

The most insidious of the bunch, this person gets off on endless eye-rolling at all the antics of her wild co-workers. The wacky stuff that happens here! It’s not wacky, Sandra, it’s been a dull ten minutes where someone explained the concept of Naked Attraction to you to kill time.

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Armbands, hats, Dark Side of the Moon on vinyl: what we're banning, by Qatar

WELCOME to the greatest ever festival of football, a sport we love. Certain items are banned from games for peace, harmony of all involved. These are outlawed: 

The armbands with the rainbows on cannot be worn on the pitch. To wear one of these makes the run of a Saka, the assist of a Maguire, the doing-nothing-then-letting-two-in of Pickford into a beautiful, arousing and mentally deranging act. Banned.

The hats with the rainbows on cannot be worn by women. Women have thin skulls, so they are not safe to drive, own property or wear the hats lest the colours seep into their brain and give them desires. Women have no desires naturally.

The Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon. Classic album of psychedelic 70s but the cover is wrong. On tape or CD permitted in plain cover, but on vinyl the rainbow is large and will corrupt. Penultimate track is called ‘Brain Damage’. Too obvious.

Prisms which separate white light into the visible colour spectrum. The refraction of light in this manner is strictly forbidden, for it may be projected onto our buildings, our people, even our ruler and the rays would take effect. Supervillain weapon.

Genesis 9: 13-16, the passage where your wrong God makes his covenant after the flood with a symbol we do not allow in this country. Yet it rules your heavens, which is why the sodomy like no tomorrow on prime time television game show to win washing machine.

The Wars of the Roses are not to be mentioned, for it escaped not our notice that Richard of York Gave Battle In Vain which is one of your codes. Our spies miss nothing. Also Roy G Biv is banned everywhere. Him we shoot on sight.

No oil in a puddle. Oil we like. Oil is why you’re here. Oil in water, reflecting a multiplicity of colours, seducing with a message of love? Takes every mind to oiled, muscular pectorals glistening as the men dance in the cages like Love Muscle at Brixton’s The Fridge. All oil is the property of the King.