Christmas Evenin’ All

The gentry watch the workers enjoy their Christmas fayre

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was Christmas Eve in the unit

Two analysts languished there

Hungover, tired and jaded

Tinsel shreds stuck in their hair

 

They gazed out on a frosted landscape

With no inclination to thaw

And reflected upon the injustice

Of having drawn this year’s short straw

 

They stared at the dregs of their coffee

And let slip a slight, wistful groan

As they thought of the grub and the telly

They were now missing out on at home

 

A days’ work was waiting attention

Keyboards and write blockers lay ready

But neither would risk getting started

With stomachs and hands that unsteady

 

Dim thoughts of the office party

Were starting to get more intense

Like pieces of some insane jigsaw

Where nothing quite fit or made sense

 

Their bleary eyes met for a moment,

A knowing look, silently shared,

Spoke volumes, for what had gone on there

Could never be publicly aired

 

It’d lasted ‘til well beyond midnight

With lashings of cheap fizz and beer

And everyone laughing and joking

‘til some clown goosed DC Smith’s rear

 

But the fuss was for nought, on reflection,

For she was much later espied

Putting a shadowy, masculine figure

In touch with her feminine side

 

Now, no-one had dared to make reference

To this little faux-pas, just yet

But when one lad started a sweepstake

Everyone took out a bet

 

In the corner sat the Inspector,

His face was all pasty and grim

The rumour mill had started grinding

And fingers were pointing at him

 

The whispering and speculation

At least made for innocent fun

And took their minds off the recession

And job cuts that surely must come.

 

The irony of the sweet carols

And steeple bells, starting to ring

Was not lost on these, our sad heros,

As they pondered what next year might bring

 

Of comfort and joy came no tidings

But all men must hope on that day

If they couldn’t enjoy Christmas dinner

They’d at least put some b*st*rd away

 

So they broke seals on two main exhibits

And imaged and indexed and poured

Over every last shred of the data

And turned up some pron and a fraud

 

Job done, they both left their shift happy

And went home to join in the cheer

Think on this tale, all who now read it –

There’ll be fewer to guard us, next year.

 

May auld aquaintance etc. etc…

 

Tags: digital forensics, forensic humour