The girl next door can rot in hell

This being me, is not the age old story of the girl next door. In fact, she's not even my neighbour. Well, she is, but only for a certain period during the day. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

Basically, office space being at somewhat of a premium in England, our company shares an office with another company. We have half the floor, they have the other half. The traditional grey dividers march up and down the centre of the room, blocking access betwixt us.

While they block us from seeing each other, they do not, regrettably, block sound waves. I think you can see where this is heading.

Everyone on our side of the office is conscious of the noise we make. As is almost everyone on the other side of the office, bar one lady, who shall remain nameless.

Without putting too fine a point on it, this woman is appalling. She is obnoxious, has a laugh that would make Goofy blanch, feels the need to share her conversations with everyone within visual range and normally talks about subject matter that would be more familiar to patrons of Soho slap and tickle club, as opposed to a London office. Moreover, she's even managed to convert/lead astray most of the others over that side as well. I've been reliably informed that they were quiet as lambs until the human equivalent of a noise grenade landed in the midst of their office, and now they jabber away like so many lyrebirds, mimicing her behaviour.

Honestly, sometimes it's enough to make you want to go Van Gogh on your ears. In all fairness, it's not all the time, but remains constant enough just to move beyond an occasional irritance to a regular annoyance. It doesn't help that she's in possession of an accent that Dick van Dyke made sound larrikin and charming in Mary Poppins and yet after a few weeks is enough to make your ears bleed spotaneously.

I suppose I could retaliate by upping the Awwwwstraliana factor in my speech, but then I'd likely get defenestrated by the other Aussies, Kiwis and South Africans who make up the majority of the working populace in our office. More to the point, it still wouldn't shut her up.

My theory is that she's either shagging the boss or somehow does outstanding work when she's not jabbering away, because for the life of me I can't understand why she's still there.

Or maybe her behaviour is to be expected. We are talking about the English work ethic after all.