Or the FFC as it is better known is the small but perfectly formed group of Studio Northians that (almost) without fail, when the Friday afternoon whistle blows and they have massaged their aching fingers back to life saunter down to the pub where they have a gossip, pint and congratulate themselves on another successful week….

Of course there are always those that don’t make it and a few weeks ago, fed up with boring excuses I decided to set them a challenge.  For those that were not attending, their response had to be in the form of a poem.  Not expecting much I was astounded by the hidden talent that was demonstrated by our ordinarily word shy office.  So sit back, relax and prepare to be entertained.

There once was a fella named Chris,                                                             
Who wanted to go on the p**s,
His wallet was bare,
There was just nothing there,
So a top night out he would miss

There once was a man called Dave
Who wanted to go out and misbehave                        
He’s just moved in to his flat
So he’s got to fix up that
But think of the money he’ll save.

Of the Steve’s one’s a miserable old fella,
with identity crisis thinks he’s Weller.
Appointment to tart-up his hair
means he can’t meet you there,
So it’s no Ball for this Cinderella.

Amazed and astounded?…..Thought so, what talented creatures we have frequenting the halls of Studio North

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