SHOUTING and throwing newspapers around?

That’s nothing. In some offices I’ve worked in, life was a perpetual storm and I grew very adept at ducking flying coffee mugs, phone books, bottles of Tippex and once, memorably, a heavy card index file.

The bullying programme editor who threw that then ordered me to pick up all the cards that had scattered the length and breadth of the office.

I refused and went to the pub and later found him quietly picking them all up himself. Quite right too.

Even that wasn’t as scary as the Greek restaurant owner who once threw a knife at me because I’d hung the dishcloths up incorrectly. That was actually a little disconcerting, but I learnt my lesson and nearly 40 years later I still hang the cloths very neatly on the taps.

But noisy, blustering, shouty, throwing things kind of bullies are pretty straightforward really – especially if their aim is rubbish. Usually they are furious at the incompetence of people who work for them – which is why I was so frequently on the receiving end – and often even more furious with themselves.

And often it works. Because you know these people have impossibly high standards, you up your own game to meet them. Those who can’t, get out. Those who can, let the shouting wash over them have a demanding, exhilarating, challenging time.

As well as learning to duck.

There are also, of course, those socalled victims of bullying who cannot distinguish between bullying and simply being told in no uncertain terms that they’re not doing their job properly. There are a lot of those around too.

But the real bullies are the sneaky sort. Colleagues who never raise their voices but who quietly and politely humiliate you in front of others... who take your ideas for their own... who keep you out of the loop and then mock you for not knowing. I’ve worked with one or two of those too.

But not for long. These are inadequate creatures who always want to boost themselves at the expense of other people.

Which is why I have grave reservations about the behaviour of Christine Pratt of the National Bullying Helpline, who has made public the complaints from the prime minister’s staff. If Gordon Brown is really an ogre, then isn’t she making vulnerable staff even more vulnerable by saying, even without naming names, that they’ve been in touch? So much for confidentiality. And isn’t bringing all this into the public domain and humiliating the prime minister – whether deserved or not – in itself precisely the act of a bully?

Either way, I find myself unexpectedly approving of Ann Widdecombe who has resigned as patron of the charity, and, despite his temper tantrums, unaccountably in sympathy with Gordon Brown.

But in these touchy-feely times, maybe he should learn to count to ten, or maybe even 100 before he loses his cool quite so often.

And keep away from card index files.

The Weakest Link

SMALLER Son was on The Weakest Link last week – recorded over a year ago and a repeat, but the first time I’d seen it.

He did quite well, wasn’t even the weakest link when he was thrown off. But while the fearsome Anne Robinson was horribly rude to everyone else, she was actually nice to my boy, teasing him quite kindly and almost flirting with him. Now that’s scary...

Cheryl Cole

CHERYL Cole, pictured above at the Brits, said recently that she was going to take next year off work to have a baby with husband Ashley.

Yes, the same Ashley who has been sending naked photos of himself to all and sundry and seems to have bedded all those wannabe WAGS who couldn’t get John Terry and who are now coming out of the sleazy sheets to tell their pathetic stories.

Cheryl has now announced the couple are splitting up.

Looks like she’ll be on TV a lot next year then.

Too much money, too little sense

THE cost of raising a child from birth to 21 has now apparently soared to £200,000. As I check my pathetic savings, I find that all too easy to believe. And we didn’t pay school fees and haven’t helped them buy houses yet...

But I am baffled that the first year of a child’s life apparently costs £9,000. That seems a ridiculously extravagant amount. What on? In Senior Son’s first year, we bought a pram, a cot and a buggy and some nappies. Just about everything else, including most of his clothes, were presents or hand-me-downs. And not even he could eat £9,000 worth of baby porridge in a year.

Equally amazing, the amount of pocket money a child gets has apparently crept up to a staggering average of £4,338 – which is more than £90 a week. About the same as the state old age pension.

Some parents out there clearly have lots of money to throw around.

Would anyone like to adopt me please?

The lads deserve a medal

CONGRATULATIONS to John Jackson, from Barnard Castle and Dan Money, despite their crash and disqualification from the two man bobsleigh event in the winter Olympics.

There has been lots of criticism of the track, with people maintaining that it’s dangerously fast, especially after the death of the Georgian competitor before the games began.

But the British pair were brilliant, despite Jackson having done much of the course on his back under the bobsleigh.

It wasn’t the course, they said. You expect an Olympic course to be tricky and challenging. It was them, they had made a vital split-second mistake. Their own fault. Nobody else’s.

Such honesty. Such refusal to pass the buck. In these accusatory times, they surely deserve a medal.

Backchat

Dear Sharon,
THE new queuing system in Darlington post office is a great benefit to some of us to be able to sit while waiting, and worth the extra minutes. Of course, if more branch POs were open, there would not be such delays.

Dorothy Lincoln. (by e mail) Dear Sharon,
THE old single queuing system was simple and fair. It works well in the banks and everyone understands it. The trouble is that they never have enough staff on.

If there was a cashier at every point then we wouldn’t have to wait so long.

Gordon Chapman, Darlington.

Dear Sharon,
ONLY a quarter of an hour waiting in Darlington post office? You were lucky. The last time I was there, there were 25 people in front of me and it took me 25 minutes to get served.

Grace Ford, Darlington.