So, Shall I Stick A Broom Up Me Arse And Sweep The Floor While I'm At It?

Or perhaps I should make like an amoeba and undergo binary fission till there's enough of me to actually do the fucking stupid amount of werk that I've had dumped on me this week. This may come as some surprise to the people I werk for, but I'm not a Vedic deity or asura and therefore only have two arms, not eight or more... Oh, and any fucknut who uses the word 'urgent' to me when they really mean 'this has been sitting in my in-tray for several weeks and the deadline is rapidly drawing near and I haven't got a clue how to find my arse in the dark with a torch, let alone decipher this circuit diagram/G.A. drawing./contract/tender/whatthefuckever, please help me sort my life out in the next two picoseonds' will receive one of the following replies:

1. No (if I feel kindly, not fuckin' likely at the moment)
2. A massive volley of minutely detailed and extravagantly verbose abuse. (Most likely answer)
3. A severe and protracted beating with the fucking huge stillson wrench (see top left) which leans against my desk at all times in readiness for the day my fucking steam driven abacus gives up the ghost and I can smash it into tiny, tiny pieces. (Reserved for repeat offenders)