Friday, 16 September 2011
Money For Nothing
I've been looking at second careers. I think I've still something to give the world other than another cold.
What with my age, maturity and experience something in the legal world would be an obvious choice. A judge perhaps; except they do insist on years of practice at the bar and, frankly, I'm not that good at learning by tort and I couldn't bear sharing an office with Cherie Blair.
Then I thought I'd be a natural shoe in for the role of Chief Constable of Such and Such. Nothing too arduous to begin with, until I get my size10s under the table, and then the Met. There's bound to be a vacancy within the next year or so.
You see I have definite views on crime, which I understand politicians like to hear. In a nut shell, I don't think it's a good idea to have too much crime or too little. Just enough to keep the old bobby on his toes, a burglary here, a mugging there, a murder or two a year. Just enough to keep the residents nervous and grateful for the men in blue.
The trouble is I don't know any journalists and the last brown paper bag I saw contained nothing more than gob stoppers, so I fear I might be at a disadvantage.
A politician: of course! Why didn't I think of that straight away. You see I have natural gravitas, although since I've stopped drinking alcohol gravity appears to have less mass to grab onto. I've been around, seen it all, have experience dripping from my finger tips. And I know what I want and what the people want.
They want direction, they want leadership, they want 20p off a pack of fags and free beer. They want the rich screwed and the poor buggered. They want someone who can articulate their inchoate thoughts about celebs, "Red and Black", and bringing back hanging. I'm in touch with yearnings of the masses and I have the vision to put the "Little" back into "Little Britain".
Yet, I'm really not that confident. I don't look like a stuffed, over fed pig, and I haven't cultivated that over-satisfied smug look that is now de rigour on the faces of "just down from Oxbridge" arseholes, who's first and only job is in some Minister's back office toadying up to the politico big wigs . Also, I can't meet a politician without wanting to shake them violently by the neck.
My Third Age career advisor came up with the answer; after we'd considered and dismissed undertaking. I just thought it was a bit too hands on and I didn't quite fancy a daily dress rehearsal of my own demise. No, it's banking.
I've all the right qualifications. I think I'm good at maths but actually I'm always putting the decimal point in the wrong place. I'm careful with money - mine that is, to hell with others. I look plausible, I even sound as if I know what I'm talking about - when in fact it's all baloney. I don't have a mortgage so I will have no understanding or empathy as a customer bursts into tears when I tell them I'm repossessing their home.
The clincher is: I'm on Facebook and I let my mates know I'm in the shit, but won't tell my boss.