The (former) form of discomfort

My years spent in the philosophy office have given to a few highly esoteric jokes, the extremely (and downright) painful chair dubbed "The form of discomfort", Bif our intrepid volleyball, and the painting of the territorial judge -- watching over us as we sleep... (actually, that sounds kinda creepy). The chair, nay it was no simple chair. A illegal form of persuasion is more appropriate. It had a cousin residing in my home. My office chair was naval surplus. That or my father nicked it while still in the service.

That was over 20 years ago. It's shown its age, the padding is missing from the arms, the seat is no longer attached to the frame, and to be absolutely frank it was the worst chair in my home. Yet I was doomed to use it, no other chair was tall enough for my desk (pesky keyboard!).

Until today! For I have defeated the power-generating dragons in the east to reach Salina, and escaped with a new chair, also an art-deco alarm clock, but that's not for now. I shall be united with the rest of geek-dom with a proper chair.

Viva la Desk chair, viva la France, VIVA LA COQ A VIN!