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A day in the life of Abacus Court employees

This is a page all about the staff in the pensions department of the PwC Abacus Court Office.  It is probably the most exciting page currently on the internet highway. The story is told by the badger-loving Andrew Goddard.

Hi, I'm Andrew, otherwise known as The PogleMeister, and I'll be your narrator for the day, primarily because I'm the most important bod in the office.  I'm always very busy, sometimes too busy to actually do any work.  I will now take you on a guided tour of Abacus Court's lively second floor, full of some of the funniest, sexiest, intelligent people you could ever hope to cross over to the other side of the road to avoid meeting.  One last thing: actuaries rule! (I'm an actuary by the way.)

This is Paul, the dark horse of the department.  Did I say dark horse?  What I meant to say was moaning git.  He never stops whingeing all day every day.  I should know as I sit opposite him.  Why shouldn't I eat with my mouth open?  There's nothing wrong with that, as long as I don't spit any food on him.  But enough of me, more about Paul.  He's the social hub of the office, or at least he used to be before he came bitter, twisted and listless.  I actually think he's a bit simple.  But don't tell him I said that.  'Cos he'll moan.

Moving along, this is James, aka Sicknote.  James was last seen in the office in about 2001, but that was only to pop in to get his coat, which he had left here accidentally.  He regularly flouts office policy by staying in bed all day due to a variety of increasingly dubious illness.  Some recent examples have been a scratched finger, echzema, a broken nail, bad breath and tiredness.  This photo isn't actually a photo, it's an artist's impression, because no-one really knows what he looks like.  He's a valued member of the office, though.

This is Mark Rogers, sort of my immediate boss (or at least so I let him think - I clearly can run intellectual rings around him).  He's a Grimsby supporter.  And, ever since he got scared by a rather large pension deficit some years ago, he has suffered from above average hair loss.  His specialist areas are rubbishing other actuaries, billing and rugby union.

Pray silence please for the great David Henry Hallam. Wooing the office immediately on his arrival in the year 2000, David's spontaneous wit and Basil Fawlty impressions have delighted us all. He promises us that he is British tennis's next big thing, but not until Timothy Henman has hung up his, er, racket. He doesn't want Tim to suffer from the adverse publicity you see. What else can I say? He still lives at home, but that is being rectified. And he doesn't take too much crap off that gobshite Paul opposite, which is very jolly admirable of him.