Some staff in this building work for Thomsons Holidays. They're composed almost exclusively of frizzy-haired, perma-tanned girls who have inane conversations in the lift that inevitably include the phrase “And I was, like” and regularly have the punchline “I nearly died.” Such is the frequency of Thomsons Holidays' employees suffering near-death experiences that I'm considering spending lunchtimes kitted out as a St John's Ambulanceman and standing in their lobby offering terrible, potentially dangeous first-aid advice.

It's interesting that if you type “first aid heart massage” into Google, the first 5 results are all about giving heart massage to your pet. I find this outrageous. Will no-one think of the humans?