Radon-related incredulity in the cubicle farm

I was fortunate enough to capture Carlos at the exact moment when he located our precise position on the Radon Map. 

Carlos thrives on a good health-related anxiety.

Dr Murphy, that spoilsport, managed to quash all his hopes of developing a new condition following his latest health check, and poor Carlos, after hours of unsuccessfully trawling the internet in search of exotic new symptoms that could herald a novel health scare in him, latched onto the radon hysteria like the kangaroo embryo that has just completed the climb of a vertiginously high and hairy motherly belly before finding the teat-in-the-pocket.

I sometimes wonder if Carlos and Mrs Raheny are not Siamese twins who were separated at birth.

It’s a seamless transition between work and home.


And they both agree that I am a heartless cynic incapable of empathy.