To my employer - I don't want to be here

I hate the three male bitches,
that have caused stitches,
to my weak and pressured brain.

Pissed off with their whispered chats,
whilst i bloody have to worry- (prats),
what am i doing here?

Dread coming here to this diseased 'hell',
even my tongue can taste the vile smell,
Fuckin humbug sham.

When my 13 hour day is complete,
i'll swallow that whisky neat,
change, then shower into a different flower.

I have finally made a loopy deal,
making the clock stay still,
i hate my job.