Some people collect Royal Doulton porcelain figurines. I collect something less tangible but infinitely less stupid.
A good one sets me up for days, mate. I treasure it up, smirk over it on the bus, tighten it up and script it for use in my debut Aussie screenplay (so the novel's on the backburner for a bit, alright).
A colleague's habit of calling his taskmaster supervisor "sunshine" (gesturing towards the retreating big wig with a jerk of the head) always makes me snort appreciatively at the irony of it all:
"Sunshine's given me another turd sandwich."
It's lunchtime and he's holding a brown paper bag stained with grease. I eye it suspiciously.
"The other kind" he says, catching my eye.
"Memo on comparative international banking law."
Bit crude, but I liked it.
That's what the profession does to erstwhile innocents.