I am electric

I'm getting a lot of static shocks at the moment. This used to happen all the time (I still can't close a car door touching the metal; I either push the window or pull my sleeve down. I'm aware this makes me look crazy). Anyway, for no reason I can work out it's started up again. It's quite effective at keeping me away from the chocolate vending machine at work, but less fun when I shock the cat or my friends (true story: I was once on an escalator with Liz and I earthed myself onto the handrail – through her).

I don't know why it happens. I'm not even wearing manmade fibres (I stopped that in my last job. In case you ever wondered, nylon carpets are a terrible idea. That's when I stopped buying trousers from Dorothy Perkins, the shocks and the glorious static cling, with their 80% polyester fibres).

I'd love to think this was all something to do with my electrifying charisma, but I suspect it's something a little more prosy. I have yet to figure out what, though.

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