Christmas is all sorts of things to all sorts of people but to many of us the lead-up is the time when those who normally don’t drink usually get sloshed, plastered, bombed, merry or just plain drunk.

The usual setting for this piece of annual frivolity is the dreaded institution called the office party, and there’s dozens now in full flight in Orange.

You know, the gathering where ambitious young employees wonder whether they dare call the boss by his first name as he dispenses lots of beer and chardonnay.

It’s the gathering where the delight of having some Scotch sloshed into what you thought was your half-empty glass turns sour when you discover it was really someone else’s parked vodka cruiser. 

If the party is held in the workshop there’s the fixed-smile bliss of drinking beer from a chipped coffee mug and wine from a paper cup. 

But it all goes on until everyone is three sheets to the wind.

Next morning, what you had to drink comes home, not just to roost but to crow. 

And besides the headache, there’s always that nagging little worry in the back of your mind: Just what did I say to the boss?

There’s only two remedies. Time and rest, promising yourself you won’t ever touch another drop as long as you live.

At least not until next year. 

Welshman should retaliate

RUGBY league dribblers in the Sydney Press have been giving new NRL chief executive officer David Smith a tough time because they reckon he’s ‘a posh and upper-class’ Welshman better suited to the rah rahs.

They say he wouldn’t know what it was like to queue at a suburban ground for a beer or a meat pie and wouldn’t know the difference between a chicken wing and a shoulder charge. 

Well, they’re brave words coming from writers who are experts on serving us beat-ups almost every day.

David Smith should retaliate by holding his press conferences in Welsh to keep them guessing but the end result would probably be the same after they add a bit of colour.

Imagine this:

Journalist: “Good afternoon.”

Mr Smith: “Prynhawn da.” (Good afternoon)

Journalist: “The players are concerned about the salary cap.” 

Mr Smith: “Maent yn breuddwydio am ei.” (They dream about it).

Journalist: “Orrrh, uummm...Can you give me an exclusive on what you intend to do?”

Mr Smith: “Y Ddraig Goch ddyry gychwyn.” (The red dragon will show the way). 

Journalist: “Uummmm. I’m a little puzzled...”

Mr Smith: “‘N sylweddol.” (really)

Journalist: “The salary cap..?”

Mr Smith: “Dal ati, daliwch ati.” (Keep at it, don’t give up)

Journalist: “Oh. You’re going to look at it?”

Mr Smith: “Yr wyf yn darllen llyfr weithiau.” (I read a book sometimes)

Journalist: “Well...Uuummm. Thanks anyway.”

Mr Smith: “Nadolig llawen.” (Merry Christmas)

The story in the sports pages the next day would go something like this: “New NRL chief doesn’t intend to increase the salary cap and players are furious. He’s never been to a league game and doesn’t know the name of the Australian captain. He’s also not aware the referees almost destroyed this year...”

Well, as they say, you can’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.

Assignment

A group of middle managers at Electrolux is given an assignment to measure the height of a flagpole so they go out with ladders and tape measures.

But they’re falling off the ladders, dropping the tapes and the whole exercise is a disaster.

An engineer comes along and sees what they’re trying to do, pulls the flagpole out of the ground, lays it flat, measures it from end to end, gives the measurement to one of the managers and goes on his way.

One manager turns to another and laughs: “Isn’t that just like an engineer? We’re looking for the height and he gives us the length.”

Zig Zag good news

IT’S welcome news work on upgrading Lithgow’s Zig Zag Railway is beginning to get up steam again after operations were closed down last June when a statutory authority safety regulator of the NSW Government listed 150 faults in the railway’s safety management.

The co-operative now has a plan to fix the problems and hopes to get the wheels turning again by July next year.

The historic Zig Zag was hailed around the world as a masterpiece of engineering when it was opened in 1869 but major bottlenecks forced its replacement in 1910.

The tourist railway is Lithgow’s most popular attraction and the city obviously has been the loser since it closed.

Thousands of people a year rode the Zig Zag to the pungent smell of coal smoke and soot, the hissing of excess steam and the ear-splitting screech of brakes as the great tin dinosaurs lumbered down the precipitous journey to the valley below.