The Fiver | A forlorn expression, well-placed scarf and miserable-looking dog

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Long, long, ago, in an office reasonably close by, The Fiver used to be sent out on weekends and bank holiday weekends too. Back then, it was a diligent tea-timely email, eager to please The Man, making its subscriber squeal with delight with the latest satire, 365 days a year. But one night, The Fiver went to one of those hideously-expensive retro cinema nights, screened at some ungodly hour, and watched Ferris Bueller. This is how we came to discover the sick-note, the sickie, aka the glorious day(s) off. More specifically, discovering the steps needed to make a sickie convincing. The key to faking out The Man is the clammy hands. It’s a good non-specific symptom. You fake a stomach cramp, and when you’re bent over, moaning and wailing, you lick your palms. It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is this missive.

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