What's New?

Say the word ‘news’ seven times and it will start to sound a bit like the word ‘snooze’. Coincidence? I think not. 

The news has become anything but that, all the stories I see are just a perpetual regurgitations of old ones. Of course this isn't the news’ fault it’s ours for not doing better things to get on the news. I can quite happily go without any news at all in my life and just assume that there’s a war going on somewhere, a celebrity is doing something or died, the financial crisis is ever present and paedophiles are still fucking kids. It’s not harsh to say, it’s just the news. The rest is just details, and that’s where things become strange.

People that watch the news might tell you that they watch it because they like to know what’s going on in the world, why? Because it’s interesting right? Well the way I see it is the news is really no different to reality TV. It’s just as voyeuristic and equally as pointless. Maybe there was a point in time when the news inspired people to do something positive to change the bad news to good news but nowadays it’s pretty much just another form of entertainment, entertainment for perverted, violent and most of all fucking nosey humans just like you and me. Of course the news lies and exaggerates things but we’re the crowd that cheers it on, more mass shootings! More terrorists! More Kate and Wills baby, for Christ sake tell me what the little shits blanket is made out of before I jump off the top of this multi story!

Having lived through debatably the greatest televised news story of all time 9/11, I'm not sure much could shock/excite me now. Tragic as those events were I'm sure it is for 99% of us our most memorable episode. It’s hardly surprising that a lot of people loose their apathy when the lines between entertainment and reality are so transparent. It’s possible that people reading this might feel like I'm a bit of an arse hole for putting across this view or that I'm insensitive because I don’t see a soldiers death any different to a drug addict dying of an overdose but to those people I’d say this. You are the worst. Apathy never did shit for anyone; the queen laying a wreath on cold stone does nothing to honour a man or woman that will not see another day because of a higher agenda, Whether you watch it in HD or not. The truth is people don’t think they just do, and as long as that continues so will all the finger pointing and judgement that keeps us in this never ending cycle of insanity.

Now turn off the news and go help an old lady cross the road. 

Super Dry

Hello Humans,

So last year I was in London?

 I moved to East London just over a year ago to follow my dream of becoming a popular artist within the genre of Hip Hop music. I have under another alias had some success in this field, and figured that out of all the proverbial work pies I've had my finger in, this one might seem the least like holding my head underwater for 8 hours a day while simultaneously having dog toys shoved into my anus. I may not be able to hold down a job all that well but I knew when coming to our great Capital that I couldn't get by on my cheeky smile and knack for making impressive fart noises with my armpit. So armed with my impressively colourful CV I set out to find myself some employment.

 I thought back to my previous work history and decided if I was to give away hours of my life at a price to afford food and shelter that I wanted a job with the least amount of responsibility. Luckily I had a friend with a connection to a manager at a SuperDry store in West Field shopping centre Stratford (a thoroughly horrid place). So I popped down to hand over my credentials.  After dazzling them with my finely tuned interview techniques they had no choice but to hire me, and before I knew it I was there folding up Japanese inspired clothing to an ear bursting symphony of the latest dub step/house/indie mash up. You know what? Just helping people buy dumb shit that made them look even more stupid than when they walked in gave me a real sense of... well err... a real sense of...? Fuck, it just brought some money in.

Thing is I knew it wouldn't be too long before I grew tired of turning up to the same place to do shit that I have no interest in for the sake of a small pay check. It’s really not about the people I worked with, they were all nice enough. It was the uncompromising way in which this shop and loads others like it are run. I know it’s got nothing on the harsh working conditions of other countries but I still reckon walking about the same small area for 5 hours at a time while they insist on playing fucking horrible music on loop is not good for your brain. Not to mention how it’s very much frowned upon to talk to one of your colleagues for any length of time.

 The funny thing was after I’d handed in my resignation because I was convinced the illuminate planed to bomb the London 2012 Olympics, a regional manager came into the pretty much empty shop and caught me sitting in one of the fitting rooms. I could tell instantly how absolutely pissed off he was about it!? He then sent one of my supervisors over to tell me how upset he was and that as well as never sitting down I should also take out my chewing gum? Of course knowing I was leaving anyway I said that if he was upset with me for sitting down or chewing gum I’d gladly explain to him why I was doing those things. 

The conversation I thought might go something like this...

Him – “why are you sitting down?”

Me – “Because my legs were tired from standing”

Him- “why are you chewing gum?”

Me – “because I want to have fresh breath”

He never did come over. Twat.

Trains are Shit.

So I hear that the cost of rail travel is going up again!? Now this really is disappointing because I can barely imagine train journeys becoming any more painful, bar the 17:23 to Brighton driving at full speed directly into my rectum. Now I’m sure if you have ever had to use the train on a regular basis you’re aware of its downfalls, one that tugs rather violently on my gonads though is the trick whereby they slowly increase the amount of time that a train is delayed by? I mean, I can understand if a train is running late but in 2012 it can’t take a crew of Hadron Collider scientists to work out when it’s gonna get to me? With every 2 minutes that are added every 2 minutes I feel more and more like Michael Douglas in Falling Down ready to snap with nowhere to direct my anger. So instead I look like even more of a daft prick rolling my eyes and growling “fucking, fuck sake, shitty train bastards” under my breath.

 To make this worse have you ever tried to ask one of the high vis wearing droids on the platform for an accurate ETA on when your carriage of misery might pull into town? Their efforts to avoid any eye contact would lead me to believe they think I’m some kind of master of telepathy that could make their utterly boring and slightly balding train loving heads explode if they held my stare for more than a split second.  Truth being if I did have those powers I would not be getting a fucking train in the first place, I’d be at home masturbating with no hands or levitating the cat over the bath. Even when you get an answer they just tell you shit you already know like “Listen for the next announcement”. Oh really!? I was about to put my ear down to the live rail to see if I could work it out myself?

Now to me it’s obvious, I can see one big flaw in the running of the trains. This is the fact that the people that work for the trains get free travel on the most part, and most of them have a better relationship with these bloody choo choo’s than their own family. Ever notice how smug these ticket inspectors are? It’s because this was their dream! They had a train set as a child and fantasized about putting a tiny hole in your ticket when you and I were fantasizing about the tiny hole between a girls belly button and her arse. They love it and that’s what makes it all the more excruciating, our misery is their delight.      

So in short trains and Southern Rail in particular can go lick a live rail as far as I’m concerned, and I can only hope that it blows them clear of the track cos I got places to be!

Zoid.

Where's my waterslide? Part 2

Sometimes I feel like my brain is completely void of intelligent thought. I don’t know if I'm just speaking for myself but I feel like we are all becoming more stupid by the day. I've grown up in one of the most revolutionary times this planet has ever seen through progresses in technology and the rise of the internet but with this ever sprawling map of information at my fingertips I can’t explain how pointless it all seems. If a campaign like KONY 2012 is what it takes to get our attention (which by the way I was completely sucked in by) then we really are in a bad way. The media has rendered us sitting ducks to those with the loudest bull horns and money is the driving force behind that volume. I can’t ignore it, it’s like my alarm clock keeps ringing until I finally go back to sleep and even then it invades my dreams.  

  If I was to switch on music television or the radio right now I guarantee within two songs I’ll have been ordered to have a party.... WHY? Why the fuck should we all be so focused on dancing, drinking and fucking each other? distraction is a constant in today’s society it’s like trying to think with a never ending firework display going on, it’s only a matter of time before you give in and turn around to “ooh” and “aahh” at the bright bursting colours and deafening bangs. So our surroundings themselves have become an annoying attention seeking child hell bent on us watching their shit new dance that they made up at school and 90% of the time I can’t stand it. I suppose though that I’m just being a negative Norman. Sometimes I revel in the idiocy of it all and as the saying goes ‘if you can’t beat em (and I can’t) Join them.’ So joining in until my next desperate need to rant seems like an easy option.  

 I’m not incapable of enjoying myself however much this little blog might paint that picture; I just don’t like the world. There are trillions of things wrong with it and that affects me because I’m stuck here. Now for fuck sake will someone start building more water parks.

Airports - Old blog from Gatwick

Hello. (Fuck knows the exact date I wrote this but I was at an airport and I left the job mentioned after arond 3 months)

So this is my first outside blogcast, currently I am sat in the departure lounge of Gatwick airport. Like most public places there is lots to observe, for instance as I type this now there is a strange Asian chap staring over my shoulder, he might even have seen me type this... one way to find out..... Hey weird Asian bloke stop fucking staring over my shoulder....... nope he’s still looking.

 Anyway, I got a new job today so again the Unemoloyedazoid aint so unemployed but fuck it they offered me a company car so I’m a sell out now ok? (The asian bloke just left) Even he disapproves. Well who gives a Dot Cotton cos I’m off to throw myself down a few mountains in Morzine to celebrate my grown up job and while I’m out there I might eat a few snails cos I’m cultured an shit.

“So Zoid what’s the new job?” well I’ll tell you. It just so happens I’m gonna be working for the media again but this time in print.... yeah that’s “write” I’m like Clark muhfuggin Kent yo! Except instead of a tight lycra suit and a cape I’ll have a Vauxhall Astra with Chichester Observer pasted all over it, same dif. Wow a disabled lady just walked in with some very strange crutches with elbow rests?  What kind of lazy woman has to rest her legs and as well as her elbows? She doesn’t even look that disabled bet she’s putting it on. That’s why she’s at the airport all those disability benefits are sending her all inclusive to Alicante for a right old knees up, and elbows too knowing her!  

Thats all, I'm gong to France now.   

Ski Trip Etiquette

Bonjour!!

Having just returned from the french alps of Morzine I would like to share with you my knowledge of 'Ski trip Etiquette' and how one should conduct themselves while on the slopes.

(et·i·quette)

The customary code of polite behavior in society or among members of a particular profession or group.

Now I understand that the word itself may sound slightly french but I would find it hard to believe that it's origins lie there. This is because the majority of french people I encountered while on my trip could have seemed more polite at times by just holding me down and breaking wind into my open mouth. For this reason I have come up with my own set of rules for us Brits when out on the slopes.

1. Right of way

Now although technically the mountain range is referred to as the 'French' Alps it is almost 100% fact that they would be called 'Hitlers Humps' If it wasn't for our grandfathers so that means we can basically call them ours. This also means we ultimately have right of way not only over your average french skier but also over the elderly and worst of all the 'Ski School' (Little bastards on ski's endlessly snaking across the mountain and getting in your way). If you are hurtling towards any of these feel free to sing Rule Britannia as loudly as humanly possible to let them know your coming, or if you're feeling sneaky just barrel into them without warning but be sure to land on top of them as you don't want to go home with any unsightly bruising. Look at them like moving crash mats if you will.

2. The lift ques

There is a reason god gave you elbows.. use them in the lift ques.

3. On the lift

Now no one wants to be stuck on a lift just you and a bunch of frenchies so if you're at the front of the que just block your seat until the English outnumber the french on the lift. One young french lad and just you and your mates? If this is the case all light up on your ascent to the top, blow the smoke his way to make him feel at home. Notice the blue stains on his teeth from still breast feeding from his mama's vino filled teet, under no circumstances allow him off first at the top, your queen would frown upon it.

4. Eating on the piste

Hungry? Well after taking out that 78 year old ski bag and sending 3 ski school midgets over the edge you should be. So when ordering be sure to shout loudly in your worst french accent so they know you're making an effort. All order at once to test the waiters skills in English, he should be fluent because it is the best language in the world. If you do how ever know any other languages use them too to impress any passing snow bunny's. After the meal try to force out a deafening belch as in France it is a sign of respect and gratitude for your meal, farts are not but as the saying goes "better out than in" so they're fair game too. It's possible that dumb dumb will expect a tip for bringing you food and beer but don't be hasty. If you have followed the rules in this guide then your munch was almost certainly tainted and he should not be rewarded. Instead slam your Euros on the table and yell "bonjour fella" while pointing at them as you get up to leave.

I do hope these pointers help you out on your next trip to the snow and be sure to remember, you are representing your country so if you injure yourself badly enough to bleed make it count by drawing a Saint George flag in the snow. Beautiful x

Life Insurance

I read some of the poetry I'd written to my mum the other day.

She said to me "haven't you got any happy ones?"

It had occurred to me that I was a bit of a miserable bastard, but then maybe I just enjoy a bit of misery? I'm like a young rhyming Victor Meldrew answering a puppy instead of a phone.

(I've never done that)

I think my first post on here would have been about two and a half years ago, and still minus a few stints into working life and a failed record deal I remain 'The Unemployedazoid.'

In the Job Centre on Monday a woman sat next to me breathing like Darth Vader would if he was being buggered by a large traffic cone. I thought to myself that that woman might have a decent excuse for not working. After all she looked as rough as she sounded and smelt a tad worse. To the best of my knowledge I smell pretty much on the right side of cat shit in an ash tray, and look the right side of poo stained pikey paedo, so what's my excuse?

Well, some people might call me lazy though I prefer the phrase picky or selective. Forgive me for not tripping over myself to become a salesman of life insurance but it seems to me like possibly the most ridiculous thing for anyone to actually want to do?

Type 'Life Insurance' into Google images and look what comes up. It's like a thousand perfect families frolicking on beaches and having picnics. Fathers happily throwing their children into the air safe in the knowledge that should they get terminal cancer or be killed in a freak road accident little Johnny can still get a PlayStation 4 next Christmas. Because ultimately life insurance is mostly about death isn't it? I suppose that death wasn't that popular in the advertising focus group though.

Anyway..

When I arrived at the interview for said job, I was told to take a seat in front of two blokes that looked a bit like they'd fallen out of a GAP advert. A boring blur of beige and cotton placed either side of a black plastic Christmas tree that divided them like some kind of strange channel 5 gay dating program. One of them had a note pad and a quiff of ginger hair, the other empty handed with a slightly blank stare. I cannot remember their names because both were instantly forgettable but I do remember one of their questions. I remember it because I'd been asked it before.

"So Unemployedazoid, if we were to offer you the job, where do you see yourself 5 months down the line?"

Now in all honesty I know the answer they were looking for. I had it right there for them. I'd say "Well I'd hope to be secure in my job and earning a good wage by hitting my set targets" or something like that. But I didn't. I said that I'd only just met them both and spoke to them for 10 minutes, and that for me to say where I saw myself in 5 months from now on the basis of that short conversation would be insane. I didn't give a fuck because I realised....

I don't want to sell life insurance.

Maybe a small part of me thought that they might see some charm in my honesty, but I'm almost certain they just thought I was a twat for waisting their time.

ZOIDS BACK!!

Still unemploid still not giving a fuck!

It’s been too long since I last had a go on a water slide.

The phrase “can’t please them all” is true. You cannot. But what you can do though is refuse to give the slightest fuck whether you please anyone at all. Then people might say “please yourself” and I will.

This might seem selfish but really what I’m saying is happiness within yourself is important. Guilt and shame are feelings pushed upon us by a society that in its majority doesn’t care. The media tells us what we should care about, wear, eat, think and how to act. This seems to just create larger gaps in social behaviour because in one sense we have endless choices but on the other hand we’re victims of our own surroundings. You can’t blame somebody you perceive to be complete human waste for your own judgment. They in all probability think its ok to be the person they are, the same as you might think you got your own shit together.

I don’t have my shit together. I lose my shit on the regular. The world in general confuses me beyond belief and I’m sure a lot of other people share that confusion.
My view in this blog, with the small amount of people that might look at it I realise is completely insignificant, but I feel like it’s becoming harder to care about things at all.

I bet you’d be more upset watching your family pet slowly slip away than watching a tsunami kill thousands of people in Japan in high definition. That’s normal. I only know one guy in Japan and I probably don’t know your cat or your pooch.

It’s hard enough to care about the things that are shoved in my face daily, let alone to think about all the shit that goes on that I don’t even know about?

People say “it’s a small world” but it’s not, it’s huge and full of dreadful things that happen every second of every hour of every day.

It’s been too long since I last had a go on a water slide.

Safety Christmas!!!

Hello you little fucking Elves!

This Christmas I would like to remind you all of the real reason we celebrate each year....safety.

This time of year the telly is filled with advertising campaigns deterring us from pretty much everything, from drink driving, Icy roads, Loan sharks and even leaving a Christmas night light on for your sprog. “Do you want to melt your first born child’s face off? Well do you?” The reason not to do these things can become lost in all the excitement of receiving the new Hollyoaks calendar and rubbing one out over your favourite McQueen sister, but least we forget, a minute of fun could lead to a lifetime of misery. This is why I have assembled my top ten tips for staying safe this Yuletide season. Please enjoy and remember..................

A Safe Christmas is a Happy Christmas! X

10. When buying a new Hunting knife for your cousin or younger brother, use the unemployedazoid scale of Age to Inch... for example 4 year old cousin Timmy can have a 4inch blade. 11 year old younger brother Andrew can have a small machete, but your sisters new born will have to wait as anything under 2inches just aint worth it hey ladies!? Haha aah knives.

9. When lighting the pudding try not to point the lighter and can of lynx directly at grannies face, besides upsetting her you might burn off her whole boat.

8. Putting up Xmas lights? “Not on that rickety old ladder you're not! Now put on these stilts clumsy!”

7. Try to avoid evil thoughts like punching babies in the face or shitting in the middle of the living room during the Queens speech, these things will almost certainly put a downer on the day for everyone else. Not to mention the health risks.

6. Remember Christmas 91’ that game of charades when you did Karate Kid? Aunty Brenda still hasn’t got the sight back in her right eye so pick a film with less movement, Schindlers List maybe or Glitter.

5. Dressing as ‘Old Saint Nick’ is a great disguise for paedophiles so make sure to ask in a clear and loud voice before letting young Suzy sit on his lap, “ARE YOU A PAEDOPHILE.” If the answer is yes, stay and supervise to assure there is no funny business.

4. Christmas is a time for all, even the Taliban like a slice of turkey! However if you do have any Muslim extremist friends over do ask them to kindly leave their bombs at home. Contrary to popular belief bombs are quite dangerous.

3. Drink responsibly, however if you can’t manage this when you are completely fucking smashed try your very best not to die.

2. Any board game can get competitive but violence never solves anything....... Apart from who is overall winner so if necessary get tooled up.

1. Dads, if you insist on dressing up as Father Christmas don’t forget to tell the wife. There is little more traumatising for the kids than waking up to see Daddy being beaten to within an inch of his life by Mummy with a teefal wok. Not only will it hurt but your kids will think you're an utter pussy for getting beaten up by a girl.

So there you have it, I hope these wise perls help you over this difficult time. If you found them useless then I hope you choke on a sprout.

Zoid. x

Mark Durden Smith... (Demon Spawn)

Mark Durden Smith

Twat Update.

Who the fuck does this absolute tit rag think he is!? Get off my telly you snooty overgrown quire boy before I ring your mother and tell her what a naughty bastard you’ve been.

Really does anyone actually like this wanker? He’s so condescending each time he appears on my goggle box I feel like I’ve been pulled over by police for a traffic offence, and it brings the same kind of dread. How can this antichrist have fallen from such a beacon of hope as his wonderful mother Judith Chalmers? Sweet Judith showing us all the holiday destinations we’ll never see with a friendly “wish you were here!” It’s like the British version of devil’s advocate but at least in that Keanu Reeves didn’t want to be the son of Beelzebub. Mark seems more than happy to bath in tubs of demon semen until his eyes glow red and he grows trotters. I keep half expecting “This Morning” to come back from commercials to show a satanic ritual of him sacrificing Holly Willoghby to his dad. Is she naked and strung up..... possibly..... I imagine so... makes sense. Anyway if that did happen Gino D'acampo would pull out his crucifix shaped Italian love truncheon and fuck Markelzebub back to hell while Phillip cowered in the corner like a little scared kitten, I’m sure of that.


Oh yeah and Kerry Katona can fuck right off too.

MORE LIKE RIP OFF YOUR CLOTHES BRITAIN!!!!

PHWOOAAARRR!!

The Unemploidazoid 2 (Return of the Slack)

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I'm Engaged!!!

Ok,

So I’ve been back at work now for a while, back doing what God intended for me and making sure people have personal accident, legal and breakdown cover on their car insurance policies. “Oh you don’t have PA cover Mrs Jones? Did you know your kids aren’t covered if they're injured in an accident?” If unable to use sex to sell, go with guilt.

Much as it is difficult for me to drag myself away from the next inevitable beep that will introduce me to another motorist in desperate need of my help, even the Lord himself needs to lay some cable now and again. To be honest a dump at work is something of a blessing from above, even if that above is just above my sphincter. Let’s get it right I hate my job, any excuse to take off that retarded headset and retire for a moment from those faceless voices is fine with me. In fact if I came in one morning and was greeted buy my boss saying “morning James got a choice for you today you can either work as normal on the phones or you can take an 8 hour dump, what’ll it be?” I’d probably grab a paper and hit the bogs. Unfortunately this has never and probably will never happen so my toilet trip today will be the highlight; I’ll take my phone maybe fire off a few texts and earn a penny while spending one. At work there is no men’s toilet on the floor I work on so I have the choice of going up or down, Judging on what time of day it is I may try to work out which will smell less of rancid shit and go with that.

So arriving in the toilet it’s empty and silent, a blessed utopia of calm, the automatic air freshener dispenses a whiff of floral delight as if it’s been expecting me. I take my usual cubical and there’s not even a speck of piss on the seat.....bliss. I Drop trousers and relax.

Now I’m midway through the match and miles away from the shitty world of Hastings Direct rip-off car insurance when to my horror some utter cunt goes and tries the door!? I’m shocked upright on my throne and sit in disbelief as this fucking bumtard has the nerve to try it a second time, and then a third!!? “Someone in here!” I felt obliged to shout. For Christ sake there is a red engaged sign on the door that clearly means a bloke is in this toilet? He might be having a crap, he could be treating himself to a sit-down piss, and he might even be bashing one out. Any of these sacred rituals has now been ruined buy this selfish door shoving horrid inpatient scrotum of a man. To add insult to this I then hear this arse-piece promptly turn and walk out the door!? I can only hope that on his way home he decides to ignore a red traffic man when crossing the road and is sent flying through the air landing on his stupid poo interrupting head smashing it to bits. I now have to go back to work with this complete twat-faced door rattler messing up my whole day as if working in telesales wasn’t bad enough, thanks mate thanks very much.

Zoid.

Look at me mummy!

Alright skid marks!

I gone and got meself one dem new fangled laptops I av, so as I might put up some more blogs soon bout all the funny things I do and see.

speak soon nobody. x

Hook Line and Sinker

Afternoon,

My mum swears by these omega 3 fish tablets, she told me they are good for my brain but all I've noticed really is a slight fishy taste in my mouth If I burp after taking one? Maybe I just haven't been taking enough of them but I can only imagine If they became a habit I'd just smell like a fishmonger, all be it a fishmonger with a good brain. Which makes me wonder if there is an underground world of super genius people that wont dare come to the surface for fear of being mocked for their fishy breath. Who knows they might be planing an attack as I write. Is it that crazy to think that Stephen Hawkins fella is their leader and head spy, and he only gets away with it cos he speaks through a computer? I mean can anyone actually vouch for smelling Stephens breath? And that wheelchair reeks of "I was raised in an underground maze of sewer pipes" does it not? I could be wrong but it makes you think dunit?

Bit fishy.

ID

Hands up who likes my new ID card! I hadn't even rehearsed my best Paedophile/serial killer face it just came out better than I could have ever dreamed.

EMPLOYEDAZOID?

Long time no see!?

So I have a new job.... Well actually it's my old job at a new place with the same old faces but still, I'm back in the game.

Looking back a month on the slightly altered state I found myself in I have to wonder why I decided that buying a suit and trying to get a real career was ever a good Idea. At the time it was the only thing that occurred to me that might sort things out. It appeared in my mind spelt out like a retarded neon checklist.

Step 1. Haircut and Buy Suit

So every business man needs a suit of course, though not having any cash to buy one meant persuading my dad that I needed one to get my career off to a good start. That good start being £140 in debt to my dad for a suite. The length of sleeve was a real ball ache as I've never really bought a suite before and felt a bit strange in any kind of fit. I settled on a nice pinstripe black number from Debanhams and was ready for the boardroom. I had my hair cut like Patrick Bateman from American phyco to finish off the look.

Step 2. Find Career

Looking on job finding websites it can make you wonder why anyone is unemployed? In business there seems to be a huge amount of jobs on offer, unfortunately only a select few of which I am qualified to do. I selected my new career in business mainly by annual salary I figured if it was around 18k a year I might as well chuck em a CV and see what happens. Sure enough my juicy job bait had a possible employer twitching my job rod ready for me to reel in my future in no time.

Step 3. Start Career

Ok here is where the mist began to clear. I managed to get an interview with a large recruitment agency in Brighton..... you know 'recruitment' that job I've always wanted to do since I was a little boy when i pretended to get my school friends jobs like 'head woodlice counter' and 'assistant pog manager'? My dream job in that dream I don't remember.

It was a fucking hot day when I turned up for my interview and the new black suit felt like it was smothering me like some industrial corporate cling film. As I stood in the lift I could feel my hands getting more and more clammy. I imagined shaking hands and giving the impression that I'd just given myself an oily hand job on the way up sweating like a fat bloke chasing a pig. In short my head was not in the game. I looked at the fit receptionist and wondered if she fancied me in my new suit, knowing in reality after I'd had a shave I looked more like one of the gimpy ones from the junior apprentice covered in Vaseline. As I sat down to wait my 20 quid shitty old phone covered in skateboard stickers fell out of my pocket and smashed on the floor next to who I presume might have been my competition for the roll. I bent down to collect the bits feeling my suit jacket sleeves ride up my forearms thinking to myself I should have got the longer sleeved jacket and clocked my competitions I-Phone on her lap as I got back up. If this interview was going to be in anyway based on who has the coolest phone I am fucked I thought.

After reassembling my phone I was greeted by a blond fella called Mark or Luke or something who told me to go through to this office and that he and Andrew or John or something would be conducting my interview that day. So as I waited it started to dawn on me that I knew completely tits all about recruitment and the thought of doing the job made me feel as excited as waiting for a delayed train. Handling a question like"why recruitment?" with this running through your head is a tricky task. Still I sucked it up and gave it my best, that turning out to be telling them I really wanted the job as many times as I could and hoping my clammy palms might dry up enough in time for the leaving hand shakes. I realise now I am not cut out for a suit and tie job and I never was. My optimism of a gleaming new career in business went down with me in the lift and out into the hot Brighton sun where it shriveled up and died.

Then good old telesales came to the rescue, A job that I can do with minimal effort so I can concentrate on the more important things like Rap Music.

Lesley Joseph

yeah I have a question for you Lesley, why are you such a Bastard?

Loose Women

Today on Loose Women these topics were discussed.

Do you wear all your clothes all the time or do you keep some for "best"? Wedding Cakes and

comparing pregnancies.2 ten year old boys raping an 8 year old girl. Then 60's model Twiggy came on and they all kissed her arse for a bit.

Keep up the good work gals!! x