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.