Standing outside our office is a crowd of fifty evangelists. They've been protesting about the BBC's plans to show Jerry Springer: The Opera. They're the second batch - the first batch were quieter and had nicer banners. But they went off for lunch, and the afternoon shift have arrived.
We don't like them. They're singing hymns. Not good old rousing ones, but modern huggy hymns. The kind you need a guitar for.
I've been suffering uncomfortable evangelist flashbacks all day.