Fire Drill

We have just had the unannounced fire drill which is generally known about beforehand. These are sprung on us occasionally to see how long it takes 2,000 somnolent civil servants to exit the building and clog up then surrounding streets.

Each time there is an alarm on the tannoy followed by a recorded woman's voice which calmly announces, "Fire has been reported in the building. Please remain at your desks while the report is investigated."

This is then repeated until people are on the verge of ripping the system out.

The next stage is for the recorded announcement to change: "Fire. Fire. Fire. Please evacuate the building in an orderly manner: use all available stairs and exits. Do not use the lifts." This is then repeated until the sheer monotony drives even the most recalcitrant office troll onto the street. There follows the usual twenty or so minutes of wandering around chatting while the floor wardens, a sort of office Gestapo, complete with fluorescent armbands patrol to make sure no-one is hiding under his or her desk. Outside, by contrast, we are patrolled by the Fire Wardens who are recruited from those retired members of the Stasi who patrolled the Berlin Wall before the fall. They too have nice little armbands, but also loudhailers. Their function is to keep us herded away from the local pubs. Which, of course, is difficult since there are about 1,980 of us and four of them.

It is an ambition of mine that one day I shall somehow get access to the tape and re-record it: "Fire has been reported in the building. Please remain at your desks while the report is... ARGH!!! Flee! Run for your lives! Oh my G..."

I think it would also be a nice touch for the floor wardens to place the odd smokey bacon flavour crisp on the occasional chair or desk to simulate those who failed to get out in time.

Fire Drill

We have just had the unannounced fire drill which is generally known about beforehand. These are sprung on us occasionally to see how long it takes 2,000 somnolent civil servants to exit the building and clog up then surrounding streets.

Each time there is an alarm on the tannoy followed by a recorded woman's voice which calmly announces, "Fire has been reported in the building. Please remain at your desks while the report is investigated."

This is then repeated until people are on the verge of ripping the system out.

The next stage is for the recorded announcement to change: "Fire. Fire. Fire. Please evacuate the building in an orderly manner: use all available stairs and exits. Do not use the lifts." This is then repeated until the sheer monotony drives even the most recalcitrant office troll onto the street. There follows the usual twenty or so minutes of wandering around chatting while the floor wardens, a sort of office Gestapo, complete with fluorescent armbands patrol to make sure no-one is hiding under his or her desk. Outside, by contrast, we are patrolled by the Fire Wardens who are recruited from those retired members of the Stasi who patrolled the Berlin Wall before the fall. They too have nice little armbands, but also loudhailers. Their function is to keep us herded away from the local pubs. Which, of course, is difficult since there are about 1,980 of us and four of them.

It is an ambition of mine that one day I shall somehow get access to the tape and re-record it: "Fire has been reported in the building. Please remain at your desks while the report is... ARGH!!! Flee! Run for your lives! Oh my G..."

I think it would also be a nice touch for the floor wardens to place the odd smokey bacon flavour crisp on the occasional chair or desk to simulate those who failed to get out in time.