Blogging Bored

Time to kill…

Sitting up now…

four and a half hours before my dreaded bi-weekly, insufferable probing from either the crazy Italian, “donta worry itsa getting betta” or some pimple faced twerp sat behind a desk with his footballers tie on, signing on day is upon me!  The day where I can show them up the good old Job Centre how many jobs I have applied for and how many people haven’t responded to me.  It has gotten me thinking.
You remember the guy in the Shawshank Redemption, Brooks I think he was called. Fifty odd years behind the door and then he gets let out.  He writes the guys back in the clink that he’s tired of being constantly afraid – and then hangs himself.  The safest or best place he knew was where most people dread going.

I spent a loooong time in university.  I have had a few sabbaticals in that time, jaunts off to a foreign country to work.  I have been in or in between courses in university for so long that the world outside of university does not feel real anymore.  Now that I haven’t ever got to go back to university or school or study, I am stuck in a prison of reality, lost, not knowing what I am doing…  Bummer!


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What a jammy f*cker!

I opened up my browser today in the afternoon – I don’t have Google as a homepage because it was so nice to me for many years and then became a portal for cyber rape of my computer by ne’er do wells.  Is MSN now, I know, financial rape by a multinational, before anyone points it out, I know, oooh dirty man Bill Gates.  They’re all bastards, I KNOW!

Anyway, the MSN home page, normally there for decoration i.e. I normally ignore it, don’t even look or glance at it, because it is normally Katie Price’s streaky mascara ravaged face or Peter Andre’s smug mug on it. It’s normally an open browser and move on scenario.  Anyway, a link to a video caught my eye, Stuart Tinner, wins £250,000 for kicking a rugby ball from thirty metres and hitting the horizontal bar on the uprights at last night’s Saracens vs. South Africa match at Wembley Stadium.

I mean really, how does that happen?  A guy who works in a job centre, yes the place that is the bane and scourge of my life, from Welwyn (shit hole) of all places gets a quarter million – on retrospect I suppose he deserves it!  Not only that but the unassuming geeky looking fellow then had all the Saracens’ cheerleaders stop just short of bundling him.  Well Mr. Tinner welcome to the world of minor fame and an abundance of pussy!  Oh yeah and ‘lend us a bag of sand mate’, you’ll be hearing that a lot.

In the words or Rod Stewart Some Guys Have All the Luck….

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Signed on today

Job centres are, to me, interesting places. I know it’s a pain in the arse going there at 0926 every other Tuesday morning. I know; exactly what I thought – 09:26 am PRECISELY, fear not, it’s not the time you’re gonna get seen of course. I mean it is bad enough having to go in there in first place. Then to have to wait until 0940 to be seen. Then to be told that my job search diary is fine and ‘all in order’, of course it is!!!! I am looking for work, I am an educated person, and I want a fucking job! So I don’t have to fucking come here to be patronised and be told what time I have to be here to the fucking minute.  I was discussing this with a friend of mine yesterday.  Not only is it bad enough that I have to go to this dump and be patronised by the person I swear was looking for work here the other day and is now helping other people to find work!  How insignificant each person who comes in here must be – we’re all minutes on a clock, just statistics now, surely to be bandied about by politicians fighting a PR battle to get the POWER, the power to fuck it all up again – to be defined in history by what mistakes your party made during their tenure.  I am a statistic.

You want to know statistics – the woman who told me my job searches were ‘in order’ should be made to read the Financial Times or some such economical digest to bring her up to date with what is going on in the economy.  Telling me that things are ‘picking up’, do you not know that we are heading for a period of deflation, the longest period of negative growth since 1955, since records began.  Far from picking up – hold tight, things will only get worse.

Anyway, I digress, job centres, interesting places, yes, what a cross section of British society.  the man in the corner with ‘I really should not be here’ look on his face to the man fighting to keep his benefits cash cow on the go, appealing against a decision to stop his payments.  Probably so he can carry on doing nothing or drinking or smoking pot or wasting his time or EVEN blogging!  I saw a rather attractive woman working there as well and it got me thinking.  What if you’re in there as a single man and you see a nice looking woman, you ain’t gonna offer her shit, you can’t even get a job!  It ain’t the place to pick up, that’s for sure – you can’t bullshit your way into some girl’s knickers in there – there is no way!  Unless you’re Charles Bukowski I suppose…

Times are tight maybe I’ll have to become a webcam performer – no experience necessary! 

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