Reprographics - The repro man blog

Publish this and I'll buy a copy .

Possibly the best thread I've read on this forum!

. . . .stuff . . . .

fuck !

First up, I have not read the whole thread, you are obviously a satirist/observationalist - if you were a reprographicicist (!!!!?) you would be complaining about your staff rather than your boss.

Get out ! Write. I would be happy to take an extended / focused version of your horror show to a broadcast production company. (Can I play the boss ?).

I spent time in reprographics terrible stuff (paste-up - PMTs - beatings), well paid (double bubble) but terrible, I escaped.

Christ these stories are hilarious. If rep was still around Lucifer I'm sure you'd have a lot of it.

Sorethroat, rep is still around, click on "comment" under the username's avatar on any thread and you can +1 or -1 and add a comment if you wanted!

Everybody loves biscuits.
Some people like them more than others.
Kray is a tough fucker, covered in tattoos, shaved head, a few criminal convictions. That sort of thing.
He likes ginger nut biscuits.

"Oi, Lucifer! Go ask Kray if you can have a look at his biscuit!"
I had a lot of work on. The account execs were expecting some proofs, pronto.
Fuck it.
"Hello Kray."
"Alright, Lucifer."
"Can I have a look at your biscuit?"
"Yes you can, Lucifer."
Kray drops his pants, and there, rammed between his broad, hairy buttocks, was a ginger nut biscuit.
"Thank you, Kray."
"Any time, Lucifer."
I really didn't want to know why he had a ginger nut biscuit pushed up his arse.
"Kray?"
"Yes, Lucifer?"
"Why have you got a ginger nut biscuit pushed up your arse?"

It's like this.
Kray liked ginger nut biscuits.
But so did, Rickets.
Rickets works on nights.
Ever seen someone who works permanent nights, and has done for 25 years?
Of course you have.
On zombie films.
Anyway, Rickets favourite type of ginger nut biscuits were Krays ginger nut biscuits.
They were free.
He had found Kray's private stash, and was helping himself to them through the night.
The only thing was, Kray knew that Rickets had found them.
Rickets didn't know that Kray knew.
Each evening, Kray 'prepared' a few biscuits for Rickets, and the things he did to them was pretty grim.
Pubes, dick cheese, toe jam, spunk, arse hair, spit, squeezed spots, piss, shit - you name it, it had ended up on a ginger nut biscuit, lovingly prepared for Rickets.
I'd actually witnessed Rickets eating one.
I had to walk away, with a little sick in my mouth.
The jolly japes lasted about a year.
Kray got bored of buying biscuits for Rickets to eat, so he stopped.
Rickets missed his biscuits.
He sent a machine minder out to the shop one night to get him some - they had to be the same brand as he was used to.
The minder came back, and Rickets dived in.
He spat the biscuit out
"What's up, Rickets?"
"I'm not eating them. They taste like shit."

Oh, and thanks for the positive comments, everybody.
Tynan - if there's any money to be made from stuff like this, then go for it.
Throw a brother a line. I'm drowning in this industry.

As everyone else has stated, the stories are excellent. It would be great if you could find someone to animate them, because the length, pacing, humour all seem to lend themselves to that format.
If you did want to make a blog, or eventually collect the stories together into a book or whatever, I would suggest sticking in a few self depreciating anecdotes, personal misadventures in a similar vein to your co-workers, so that the whole collection doesn't just seem like middle class sneering.

More stories please!

There is money to be made in something like this [ame="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rivethead-Ben-Hamper/dp/0446394009/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1255078728&sr=8-1"]Rivethead[/ame]

This books explains the old adage in the US - never buy a car made on a Monday or a Friday

Seriously. Your stories are brilliant.

These are fab. I've forwarded them to loads of people already. And hells yeah start a blog and animate them.

I reckon each just needs a portrait.

Same on the forwarding front. I think like gav suggested a short animation would be spot on for each sketch. They remind me of david firth stuff, salad fingers-esque.

I've got a younger brother, Devil. He looks just like me, only younger, less harassed.
He's one of my favourite people in the world.
Some might call him a laid back character, some might call him an out and out stoner.
I call him Devil.
He's had a lot of jobs, has Devil.
Warehouses, industrial units, restaurants.
I one job he had to stand by the roadside in a fucking massive Pink Panther costume, waving at passers by and attempting to shepherd customers into a carpet shop.
Pink Panther and carpets?
I don't see the link.
He got fired because he was smoking joints inside the costume's head, and people were freaking out at the sight of Pink Panther waving at them with smoke billowing from his eyes.
Devil didn't give a shit.

He got a job in the same factory as me.
He became notorious within days.

The guy who owns the factory, God, is very particular about how it looks. He's a multi millionare, drives a DB7, a sharp dresser.
He likes the factory to look sharp too - nice grounds, ornamental roundabout, tasteful shrubbery.
Put a pig in a dress it's still a pig.

He had a big office extension built, and the carpeting cost more than my salary for two years.
It still smelt new when a trail of black inky footprints appeared, walking across it's entire length, leading out onto the factory floor.
Horrified office staff followed the footprints in a white shirted conga across the factory.
They finished at the feet of a blissfully smiling Devil.

He didn't turn in for a week one time.
Why?
He'd had a big fall out with his neighbour the rabbit on Animal Crossing, and he needed to spend some time rebuilding the relationship.
It's true.

One morning, after he finished his night shift, he floored his knackered fiesta, desperate to get away from work.
He'd smoked so much shit on his shift that it left his judgment somewhat impaired.
He plowed into God's fancy ornamental roundabout at thirty miles an hour.
Totalled it.

He worked when he wanted, stayed at home when he wanted, drove the bosses mental.
Then he told them to fuck themselves, sold everything he had and travelled the world.
Pure class.
He left me here, at the factory.
I miss him a lot.

I've worked here a lot longer than he did. A lot longer.

Anyway, word came round the factory like wildfire.
We were losing our biggest customer.
There could be redundancies.
You could smell fear.
Turns out that reprography was part to blame.
We'd been getting the corporate colour wrong for years, our old Soulless Boss had been ignoring complaints, riding it until retirement.
Enough was enough.
They were coming in for talks that afternoon, then they were binning us.
New Soulless Boss put me on the case.
We worked fast.
densitometers were put into action, readings taken, proofs spat out. We really worked our bollocks off.
Updates from the board room didn't sound good, but we gave it our all.
I felt something flickering, a flame that I thought had been pissed out long ago.
Company loyalty.
I wasn't going to let this happen. I was going to get it right!
The door opened, and in walked God, looking nervous, followed by the customers big knobs.
Just as I peeled of the last laminate on a proof, exposing their bright, glossy corporate colour in all it's rosy glory.
They cooed. The aahed.
They were delighted.
We kept the contract.
As they were leaving, God turned to me.
"At last, you managed to get something right, Devil."

After all these years of service, he didn't know who the fuck I was.
He just thought I was the guy who tried to evil knievel his fancy roundabout.

What sort of pics would be good?
A covert snap from the factory floor, just pictures of machinery, or illustrations of characters?
I'm ok with a pencil. I could give something a go.

I've never read a blog, let alone written one. What's the idea? Is it an online diary, or do you have to work on layout, etc?
I'm concerned about blogs being a bit of a 'MEEE!!!' fest.
Any links to a good example I could be inspired by? (copy)

You should check this one out, too: Shit my dad says. One- or two-sentence nuggets from a guy's grumpy father. Hosted on Twitter, which is free but you're limited to 140 character messages.

I write a blog using Wordpress.com, which is also free and really easy to get working.

I can help you set up the blog if you want, or just post any questions you have on here.

Thanks Sparky! I'll try wordpress first, then message you if I'm struggling.
Got to go. Soulless Boss is on the prowl...

this is just priceless, keep on with the good work!

I too used to work in the same area for a complete arsehole with some 'different' views. He's in his 60's, local council and thinks he runs the show and all high and mighty. Oh, and he thought he was a designer at times, calling all other designers poofs, etc. man, i'm glad i left.

Coathanger joe was a proper gent.
He was on the board of directors, but he had this really weird habit.
He spoke to the staff.
not just 'morning', but actual conversations.
Using peoples names.
Names he'd bothered to remember.
He had diabetes 1, but didn't go on about it.
He liked a laugh, good food, good wine.
Sometimes an ice cream van would pull up outside the factory.
He'd actually join the queue and buy a cornet.
One time, Kray was on the way back from the ice cream van as Coathanger Joe patiently queued.
Kray was rubbing ice cream all over his face, getting it eveywhere but his mouth.
"erm, Kray? Why are you doing that?"
"Because I fucking love ice cream."
"Fair enough."

He once saw Jock doing a crossword.
"Hello there jock! Got any words I can help you with?"
"Yeah, alright. 3 across. Seven letters, begins with 'S'. The clue is 'a large fish'."
"Hmm... Salmon? No that's six... let me think about it.."
He comes back an hour later.
"Ah! Jock! I think I've got your answer! Is it Sea Bass?"
"No. We've already got it."
"Have you? Well done! What was the answer?"
"A Special."
Joe walked off, shaking his head.

The good life caught up with Coathanger Joe.
The diabetes got him, and they had to amputate both his legs. That didn't save him, but I doubt if he would have liked a wheelchair. Wouldn't have matched those snappy suits.

How come shit like that always happens to the good guys?

Glad you escaped, Jamesiw! Gives me hope.

GL, there is always hope, however you scared the living shit out of me as im type 1!!!

every office has a biscuit thief. love it

Skoota i see you watching.. here is your script for a short

You could get them animated fat pie style, that would work

We don't get biscuits so there is nothing to steal... sounds like you work somewhere 5*

we have a jar of peanut butter. one of the small ones. and we have to provide our own bread.

We don't get biscuits

I cannot begin to imagine a place of work where one would get free biscuits- we have to purchase our own and then conceal them from our co-workers.

I tend to leave mine in a locked desk drawer underneath my emergency-it's-rained-cats-and-dogs underpants.

I tend to leave mine in a locked desk drawer underneath my emergency-it's-rained-cats-and-dogs underpants.

I have one of those draws!

In my last work place we didn't even get tea or coffee. Word. I'm making my way up in the world. Next job the contract will specify "salary of peanuts, jar of biscuits, no pension", and I'll be happy.