I know you didn’t ask, but my holiday was SUPER GREAT!

Don’t you want to spend those precious few minutes of your lunch break listening to me ramble instead of consuming that stale, sad lump of bread and luncheon meat in your hand you call a sandwich?

Of course you do! What? Would you rather I sit here and listen to you recount every brain-liquefying detail of your wretched, monotony-streaked work day? No, I didn’t think so.

For those of you who I am yet to randomly grab on the street and deafen with tales of my trip to Agnes Water last week, here is the short version: It was really fun and the fish were biting and the sun was shining and the waters were clear.

I tell you this not for my benefit, but for yours. Legislation dictates that any Australian who has recently returned from a brief period of annual leave must talk about it incessantly without any regard for their co-workers’ spiralling state of melancholy.

“Oh, I do hope he tells us all about that wonderful little cafe by the water”, you are all probably saying as you continue jamming your aching phalanges into your keyboard while imagining stripping naked in a local fountain and screaming at a cop to tase you.

I didn’t go on this holiday for me, you see. I put in the hard yards and packed the car so that I could rub my post card-esque iPhone lock-screen-photo in your face.

“See! Look at the size of that coral trout! I was hauling this mythically-proportioned creature onto my boat while you were tapping away at the Jensen report like a chump!”

You’ve also probably noticed that I didn’t shave this morning. Don’t you want to know why? C’mon, ask me! Fine, I’ll tell you, but only because you signalled your interest with that facial tick. It’s because I was so exhausted from swimming in pristine waters and sampling local seafood. Navigating paradise can be really tiring.

Look, I know we’ve all got work to get on with, but the sooner I finish my story about the American tourist who asked me about snakes, the sooner things can get back to normal.

It’s just a formality. If I don’t tell everyone in earshot about my holiday, it never happened.

I might as well have spent the entire week curled up under my desk eating stale LeSnaks and whispering nursery rhymes to myself.

Right now, you look like you want to punch me so hard that I evaporate. Well, I can relate to that. The last time John went away to Broome I couldn’t stop fantasising about pushing him the down stairs for weeks.

I was like, “John, seriously, just shut up about the camel safari already!” But all you have to do is nod politely for 10 or 15 minutes and then I’ll move on to the next person.

Just don’t start telling me about that trip you’ve planned for next month. This is a workplace and I’ve got work to do.