It’s official: we all hate Celine.

But why, you might ask; two weeks ago she was only “mildly annoying” on our social barometer, what has happened in the intervening fortnight to catapult her ahead of Tarquin in the unpopularity tables?

One thing: her travel budget.

“She has a travel budget?!” Jane seems confused.

“For her travel expenses,” I explain.

“Why does she need a budget for those?  Can’t she claim them back from petty cash, like the rest of us?”

“Not really…….”

“Why not?”

“Because petty cash doesn’t stretch to flights to Europe.” I say it quickly and take cover under my desk.

” FLIGHTS!”  It’s as if Mount Etna has just erupted. I can feel the molten lava cascading down onto the table.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“What for?!”

“The Euro-Initiative.” I explain.  “She’s convinced The Boss that it needs ‘investment‘.”

“Investment!  What?  Trips to Milan when she feels like it?!”

“Rome, actually.”

“ROME!”

More lava, and some volcanic rocks this time.

“And Geneva, Paris, Athens and, finally, Frankfurt.”

“I can’t believe it!” she fumes, “He won’t pay for me to attend a course on insurance law but he’ll subsidise her Champagne sipping jolly around the Continent!”

“Why do you want to go on a course about insurance law?” She looks so cross that I try change the subject.

“I fancied a few days out of the office,” she sniffs, “But he didn’t know that!   He thought I was trying to broaden my legal skills.”

“And he said no?”

“He always says no.   I asked him about Higher Rights again, last week. He said no to that too.”

He probably realises the danger in increasing Jane’s skills in anything.

“But how on earth did she persuade The Boss to grant her a travel budget?!” she continues. “He makes us walk to  The Royal Courts of Justice for Christ’s sake!”

Three quarters of a mile away.

The Boss is not big on corporate luxury, unless it’s for himself.   So it is a surprising change of approach.

“She seduced him with the lure of international trade and finance,” I explain. “She thinks we’re wasting our time on employment claims; commodities trading and hedge funding is where the big money is.”

“And The Boss has bought into this,” she pulls an exasperated face.

“Of course he has.  He’s thinks he’ll soon be mixing with multi-billionaires!”

I’m sure Warren Buffet will be pleased to hear that.

But, the travel budget isn’t the only change afoot.  Apprentice-Boy has also muscled in on the act.  To Tarquin’s disgust, he pulls the “Corporate” card and charms Celine into believing he has lots more experience than he actually does.

“When I was doing the G-Tex deal,” he is standing in our doorway with his chest puffed out,  “I was dealing with the money men all the time.”

“Oh?” she barely looks up.

“Yeah, we had bank guarantees coming out of our ears by the time I’d finished.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” he nods. “So, if you want someone to help with this new Euro-Initiative, I’m your man.”

“Do you speak any languages?” she asks.

“The only international language you need these days is money!” he snorts.

“I see.”

It’s hard to tell whether she is going to welcome him or shoot him.   Sensing this, he makes a last, desperate play for power.

“Look,” he says, seriously, “You have the Euro chic, I have the British cheek.  I know how these people operate, you know  how they litigate.  It’s an unbeatable team.”

She considers this.  “I suppose your commercial experience could be useful,” she agrees. “But you will have to act less like a British Bulldog and more like an English Gentleman.”

He is not sure what to make of this.  “Hide my killer instinct behind a Saville Row suit you mean?”

“Yes, but you will have to start by purchasing a Saville Row suit,” she gestures to his attire. “And lose those horrible ties.  They do not match your shirts.”

There’s nothing like a bit of Euro-directness to throw a man off his stride.

“But -” he clutches the offending tie, “this is Armani!”

She mutters something in French or Russian (or one of the many languages she speaks) and makes a snipping movement with her hand.  “English Gentlemen should not try to emulate Italian Stallions; they only end up looking like donkeys.”

And with that, epic piece of advice ringing round the Typing Pool, she stands up and strides past him to promote more entente cordial elsewhere.

His astonishment is quickly overtaken by embarrassment, when he realises that everyone heard this little exchange.  He blushes furiously.

“Don’t listen to her Si’,” Danielle tells him.  “Those ties are really trendy; my boyfriend has one just like it.”

Albeit from Romford Market.

“Wayne Rooney has one too,” Melinda points out.

“And Ian Beale, from EastEnders.” Lynnette adds.  “He’s wearing it in Heat Magazine this week.”

“What do you think, Helen?” he asks me.

Why did he do that?  Doesn’t he know I can only lie if I’m pre-prepared?

“Er, it’s er,” I struggle.

“Well?  What do you think of the black shirt/gold tie combo?”

“I, er,” it’s no good, I give up. “I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“It makes you look like a nightclub bouncer.”

“Oh!” his little face falls.

“But, that might be a good thing if you’re serious about helping Celine,”  I smile. “She’s going to need protection if she continues to upset everyone.”

“I’m not upset,” he sniffs.  “Fashion is a very personal thing.  That’s the point of it.  Imagine if we all wore black suits and blue shirts?”

But, we all do, except him.

Meanwhile, Jane has lost no time in taking her complaint to The Boss.

“Why is it ok for Celine jet off to Geneva when I can’t attend a course on insurance law?” she asks.

“Celine is trying to generate new business,”

“So am I!”

“There is no money in insurance law, Jane.”

“Well,” she tries another tack. “What about derivatives?  If I did a course in that, could I go getting off to New York – say?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t have any contacts in the derivatives field.  Celine is using her already established links to try to drum up business.”

“And these links just happened to be in glamorous spots like, Geneva and Rome?”

“Yes.”

“Oh come on,” she shakes her head. “How well connected can an in-house solicitor really be? This is just an excuse for an enormous jolly at the firm’s expense.”

“It is nothing of the sort.  When Celine drums up lots of new work, I shall expect you to apologise,” he warns.

“I will,” she nods, “If she ever does.”

They scowl at one another, until another thought occurs to Jane.

“How is the success of this mission going to be measured?  I assume someone has done a cost-benefit analysis?”

The Boss has never heard of a cost-benefit analysis.

“Of course!” He lies.  “It’s all been costed out.  But success is for me to judge, Jane, not you.   Now, unless you have something constructive to say, I suggest you get back to that mediation you’re supposed to be organising.”

She pays no attention to the mediation.  She heads to my office and begins rifling through Celine’s “Euro-Initiative” file.

“The Four Seasons!” she exclaims. “She’s staying in The Four Seasons when she visits Geneva.  What’s wrong with a Best Weston?!”

What indeed.

In fact, Jane’s investigations reveal that she is flying Business and staying on the club floor of all the best hotels each city has to offer.

“This is our pay rise!” Jane jabs the file. “Right here in this folder.  There must be twelve thousand pounds worth of travel expenses here – never mind taxis, food and beverages when she gets there.”

“Double, if she takes Tarquin or Apprentice Boy,” I add.

“Twenty four thousand, plus extras – thirty thousand quid!  And that’s even before we add up the lost fee earning time.  Four days a trip, eight trips, two fee earners – that’s about a hundred and twenty thousand pounds lost.”

£150,000.  Not just our pay rise, but everyone else’s too.

“Well,” I try to look on the bright side, “If she pulls this off we can look forward to lots of interesting new claims.”

“I doubt it,” she sneers.

“Well, at the very least we can claim it’s a precedent and book into Four Seasons whenever we go away.”

“There’s only one problem with that,” Jane points out. “I don’t think there are any Four Seasons’ in Watford.  And that’s as far as I ever get to go.”

And I never leave the office.  So much for opportunities to travel.