Friends, welcome to the Daily Inch.

While I'm away researching Murdemile, here's a little treat to keep you entertained over

the next three weeks.

15 little stories which are fun, rambly, informative, but not essential to listen to.

Each story has been written and presented in a tongue-in-cheek way and are not for the

easily offended.

Murdemile returns on Thursday the 24th of August 2023.

But until then, there's this.

The Daily Inch.

At 16, emergency boobies, alarms, sirens, flashing lights, that's how we know when there's

an emergency at work, it's automatic.

We hear a nasty whaling sound like a baby with chronic piles blowing bad pipes through

a camel's backside, and we instantly think, oh, fire, I may burn to death.

I should definitely listen to the lifesaving instructions of the birds in the high-viz vests

who act like mini-hiddlers, all because they've got fire marshals stenciled on their

backs, and they've attended a one-hour course in the office basement, where they learned

how to throw sand at a smoking kettle, or some shit.

But instead, we don't.

No one does.

Instead, we sit at our desks, we grumble about how inconvenient it is, even though we're

constantly finding feeble excuses to skype off work.

But today is a particularly annoying day to be burnt to a crisp as it's payday, and we've

...