Sir Percival (or 'The Liability' to close friends) leads the company from the front. Which is fortunate because we haven't yet put a rear entrance into the building, the fire service keep blathering on about it and it's frankly quite tiresome.
'Stanley' was once driven to a psychotic episode when other staff members kept pointing out the fact he had the same name as popular brand of knife. We think he's fine now, but we only let him have plastic cutlery just in case.
Dr Turmley began his career with TPF over 13 centuries ago under the emergency lighting and refuses to attend the staff summer Barbecue. He insists it's because we refuse to let him bring his assorted flange gaskets but that shit don't wash. Yes, we're beginning to have suspicions.
A keen Joiner and professional blob. Deborah blesses all of us with her dimly lit persona and stunning ignorance of nearly any concept beyond chugging Lambrini, TOWIE and browsing lonelyplasterers.com.
The result of an all too brief liaison between Sir Percival, a lady of ill repute and professionally sharpened crayons somewhere with ample parking. Wing Commander Battersby is a poster child for shameless nepotism.