What the Fuck is a Hump Day?

Nobody likes work at the moment.

Nobody, not in radio, not in teaching, not in accountancy, refuse disposal, tennis, chewing gum production or even floristry likes work at the moment.

It's February. There are a lot of special days... whether it's pancake-focused, Valentinesy, Spring-like, Snowy or just plain feelgood, regardless nobody is having a particularly easy time getting out of bed and into work on time.

But what is a hump day? When did this strange phrase insinuate itself into our language. It seems to have cropped up exorbitantly in the previous few weeks, which can either mean I've just begun to understand what this phrase means and am hearing it everywhere I listen.... or, we're all so ruddy fed up midweek, we've actually communally created a new term to encapsulate the sheer bloody feeling of wanting it to be over, when we're only half way through. Maybe THAT is how prevalent the back to February blues are.

At any rate, I decided today that any sort of expletive is a sign of life in the old dog yet. Thinking about it, if you were first on an accident scene, saw three bodies and one of them was screaming like a banshee, that's probably the one you'd worry about doing CPR on last. Not that this metaphor particularly works, because working in commercial radio is like one constant accident scene. It's like daily trench warfare actually. Our days consists of lobbing scripts and carefully timed audio over the top, picketing behind our brand strategies, sending poor sales guys out there to the front line to face the guns, healing our wounds with paltry poultice, rationing sustenance and carefully plotting our next moves, only to knock coffee all over the ruddy map.... but we still do battle.

So, here's my succinct new phrase for those bad days and it goes like this:

"Where there's a fuck, there's a fight."

i.e. if you can shout 'fuck', you give a fuck. Fucking simple as that.

Fuck.