From the Pabs Archives (13)

March 15, 2011

Mick (aka Tarquin)

(TBM, 30.11.2007)

Our office is located within a shared building and, though it seems highly unnecessary to me, this building is staffed by a full time ‘Site Manager’ – Mick.

Mick is a very large chap, a fifty-something professional Londoner whose days are filled with cigarettes, banter, and the occasional administrative task such as sorting the post. His emotional range has been whittled down to three settings: cheerful, amazed and puzzled.

Cheerful is the default setting, occupying various levels. Patrolling the building without any real purpose sees Mick at moderately cheerful. Engaging in banter with a young lady edges him toward highly cheerful.

Amazed is the required setting when, for example, a HGV driver attempts to reverse the wrong way into our one way street, or when Mick is recounting an incredulous decision taken by a premiership football manager over the weekend (certain substitutions made by Jose Mourinho have been singled out for particular disbelief).

Puzzled is selected for the rare occasions when Mick is attempting to use his computer.

Undoubtedly, Mick is a bit of a card. Further evidence of this was shared yesterday, when my colleague Lucy was outside smoking a cigarette and moaning about a recent relationship. Mick, overhearing the conversation, made his way quickly over.

“Here, Lucy, we’re not all bad, us men,” he explained. To support this theory, Mick reached into the archives and retrieved a nugget of pure anecdotal gold.

“When I was a young lad, many years ago… I was down the pub… I’m stood at the bar and this bird comes up to me. She says to me, ‘What’s your name?’ And I said… Tarquin! Can you believe it? I had her going for a good while… Tarquin!”

They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.



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