NOT THE bonny Head Beagle. In fact, I can't think of anything cute about a snoop hovering behind me, complimenting me on my new perfume, while parallel-possessing the contents of my screen! How I wish I could do a rapid deployment of an emergency airbag and blot his view out completely! Even with the insidious KGB disbanded, these new age moles perform their covert operations under the cover of smooth talk, invitations to the water-cooler and graded dissemination of vital stats - no not that kind but pressing news of the new temp downstairs
Naturally, one has to employ every ingenious ploy in the book to `divert' their attention. The top ruses to draw the sleuth's attention away from the monitor are:
a. The lizard doing a tap dance on the ceiling;
b. The old sambar stain on the spotless (?) white outfit;
c. The tantalising aroma of coffee wafting through the air; and
d. Or better still, point to the screen yonder, and suggest it will (surely) be more plagiarisible.
Then again, snoopers are getting smarter, and it is no longer a cakewalk outwitting them. So, the poor spied-upon-specimen has little choice but to suffer and squirm till the seat takes on a shiny patina! Oh yes, the worst is yet to come (what could be worse you might wonder, but steel your heart for there is... ) When your fabulous ideas are served on a silver platter (or ppt or word doc as the case may be) after undergoing a transmutation of the lowest order, there is no end to the grief that floweth like... like... well, great grief.
But wait, don't dissolve into despair. Yet. For there is one fail-safe recipe for thwarting these spy's.
If distraction doesn't work, try dismaying! Even the super-sleuths are said to be depressed, when an apparition (capable of choking off the sun - by virtue of its gargantuan girth) emerges between the monitor and spy-kind. All snoopy's valiant attempts at tango, rumba, why, even the fox trot will fail to abet him in his `intelligence work'! And before you think this is a silly strategy, let me assure you it works! For why else do you think I endorse my burgeoning contours? It's just a supreme sacrifice - at the altar of `privacy', in this day and age of open offices! Vive la lard!
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