A man has revealed how, many moons ago, he was left with no choice but to abandon a position of employment after just one day in the job, when he realised that, by turning up at his work on the second day might result in the deaths of two of his colleagues - by murder.
In July 1992, Moys Kenwood, then 29, was offered a post in the administrative section of frozen food manufacturer, J. Marr & Son Ltd., of Gillett Street, Hull. The work - stock control - was well within his capability, and he approached his first morning with enthusiasm.
This, however, did not last.
Introduced to three co-workers, Phil, Mike, and Brian, he immediately noticed the first two smirking at each other and sharing some private joke.
It may have been the fact that he was wearing a tie, whilst they looked as if they had slept at the office the night before, possibly bumming.
Before long, Brian - who seemed, in the eight hours Kenwood spent in his company, a thoroughly decent and reliable bloke - was tasked with showing the 'new boy' the ropes. This done, Kenwood set to work.
Before long, however, Phil and Mike decided to have a smoke break, and lit up their cigarettes not three feet from where non-smoking Mr. Kenwood sat. He was not amused.
During this break - and others that followed - a selection of 'jokes' was told. These were directed at women, homosexuals, people of different skin colours and races, and - amazingly - cancer sufferers.
Kenwood's own father had died from cancer in 1979, and he was remarkably less amused than he had been when Phil and Mike had started to smoke earlier.
A whole catalogue of these 'funnies' was trotted out, one after the other, until lunch, and then after it. Loud, forced laughter accompanied them. Kenwood squirmed in his chair. Brian gave several sideways glances, and could see the hairs on his new colleague's neck bristling.
Finally, five o'clock arrived, and Kenwood fled. His bus journey home was one of torment. His father had been a brave man, and had suffered agony before succumbing two weeks before Christmas, thirteen years earlier, at the age of only 47.
Thirteen years, but five minutes to Kenwood, who now knew that, if he were to return to the office in the morning, death was on the cards, and two body bags were going to be needed.
Nitpickingly annoyed with himself for wasting the afternoon by not walking out at lunch, he looked out of the bus window, watching the environment pass by, knowing full well he had worked his first, and last, day at J. Marr.
"I'll joke about most things, but they seemed to sense my discomfort, and my unwillingness to laugh spurred them on. If they are still alive today, they should thank their lucky stars I didn't go in the next morning."