Rum and Monkey: The Office Moron Test

Morons. Offices are full of them; irritating little people with no redeeming features, forming their own social hierarchies within the walls of the workplace. It's understandable, of course; if you were to sit in the same room day after day, staring at spreadsheets and filling out orders, the monotony of your life only rivalled by the monotony of your thoughts and dreams, you too would be yearning for your own besuited Lord of the Flies scenario.

Thanks to Rum and Monkey, now you can. Release your inner office moron! Make mountains out of molehills! Become one with mundane idiocy! The world will be your Rolodex.

Someone does a really interesting, unique, intelligent piece of work. Your reaction?

Stab someone with your mop.

"Accidentally" replace it with a picture of your Neopet.

Claim credit.

Listen to your Britney CD.

Fire them.

Make meaningful noises about how great it is; then promise to write a follow-up to improve and streamline it.

There's a new buzzword in the industry, and everyone's flocking to it like flies to a rancid turd. What's your reaction?

Join in with the whole rancid turd thing. And why the hell not? It's important to stay at the bleeding edge in order to crystalise your asset concepts.

Flurb? What's a flurb? They didn't have flurbs in the old days, and we did just fine. Pass me my teeth.

Quietly change all the computers over to Mandrake Linux and assert obvious superiority over anyone who can't work out how to use it.

Look confused while alternately sucking your thumb and chewing on a stick of Juicy Fruit.

Mop.

Office love. What's it for?

The weak.

Me - if my coworkers aren't clueless losers.

My mop.

It's not big and it's not clever. But never say no to a little bit of the old sexual harrassment.

We fear the love. If they love, they may turn against us. If they turn against us, it will be anarchy! We fear the love.

Ew, people in offices are all too old to love.

If you ruled your office, what would you do differently?

They'd all stop leaving their little pieces of rubbish all over the place. Right now everything's so .. so .. dirty.

Everyone would worship me as a God.

We'd have hip hop piped in and beer on tap, yo.

I do rule my office. And nothing's going to change that. Ever. What? What are you looking at?

They would let us smoke at our desks.

It's not a case of "if", my friend ... It's a case of "when".

Unions. A good idea?

Yes

Communist scum!

Onions. A good idea?

Tangy goodness.

I cry.

If it isn't steak, it's isn't for me.

Have you ever obliterated a village?

You don't get this far without obliterating a few small conurbations, son. Never forget that.

No, but I've deleted a couple of user accounts.

Every time I blow my nose, ha ha!

... No.

Sales targets are ...

Something I strive to meet every day of my life.

Something I drive others to strive to meet every day of their lives.

People from Sales we shoot things at from time to time.

New-fangled and not to be trusted.

How do you dress for work?

Suit and tie. Always. Preferably finely-cut, like my hair.

Boilersuit.

A supermarket suit and tie, with a comedy T-shirt hidden away where no-one can see it. And some really cool underwear.

Black.

With an aura of paranoia and fearsome superiority.

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Which Office Moron Are You?