Written by Prim on 14/01/2022
But it’s gonna be… Jobby
Absolutely it is. Returning to the perceivable first-world digs on the grunt-hunt after 27-odd orbits weighs far lumpier a daunting prospect than shuffling to a wanton-free so called ‘tier 2’ spot on our Planet Farce – damned right Brother (and sister… ok, don’t go there).
Crikey, the world’s spun so spasmodically of late that any layman recognised achievement has been algorithmed (word) and bent the head on the street so weird that before you know it, it’s wrapped itself around it’s own unnecessary righteousness, bounced back in fruitless spades of mind-boggling nonsense and returned labelled from another planet. Back in the late ’80’s window cleaners became Optical Glass Enhancers. Now a grandiose title in the workplace prevails the norm; a PCV Driver is a Passenger Driving Vehicle or as far as I was aware, a bus driver. Lettings Negotiator feels a semi hostile situation, till you find it’s a real estate agent or back in Blighty speak; an Estate Agent – either way, still a semi hostile situation.
Stick an Agent on the end and Jack Reacher’s your uncle with a job no-one knew existed. Take a pet relocator… which I am soon to be, by way of necessity. Alternatively known as a Pet Travel Agent. 2nd in command would be a Pet Travel Agent Assistant, unlike a supermarket assistant who is a replenisher and can’t be confused with a poulet chasseur, oh no, hold up, that’s what we’re having for tea… I’ve forgotten where I was…
I’m a man of my word and will stick to a three paragraph rant and not for a second shall I vociferate about the bolocktical thermoceptic fart in a fog surrounding the Novax debacle, Boris’s BYO piss-ups and the globe full gear into a cashless society, which incidentally I have been for years, although I got a Friday pay-packet picking strawberries in Denmark in 1986… argh, happy days. Regardless, if the pinnacle of news in the ‘developed world’ revolves around false democracy shunting its unwanted opinion en masse, as if it mattered an ants cock outside pub talk then I’m taking my untethered goat, my flip-flops and as much of Tier 2 with me and shall continue the hunt for a suitable fun ticket provider… in the land of Yosser Hughes… ‘gizza job… I can do that’… hear hear
Pip pip, ding-dong and ticketyboo
Keep the world turning, keep it wheel
It’s Time – But It’s Gonna Be… is brought to us by Durban’s Bread