Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Look to the Future Now, It’s Only Just Begun

......as Noddy Holder once sang. Now that I know I’ll (probably) soon be officially unemployed, I have to make alternative plans for my future. And here they are:

Gigolo: My ability to find all sorts of women attractive might have served me reasonably well in this job in the past, but now I’m “of a certain age” myself I’d probably remind them of their ex-husbands.

Model: I’m essentially dressed by my wife, and using stuff she’s found cruising the town’s second-hand shops, so more Jarvis Cocker than Nick Cayman then.

Rent Boy: My mum once asked my what I’d done at school that day and I said “Careers advice”; she was shocked, she thought I’d said “Queers advice”. No.

Stick Breaker: I quite fancied this as a vocation but it was another confusion at skool careers advice class – what he said actually was “Stock Broker”.

Horticulturalist: OK, onto the serious ones now. My standing as The Man Who Introduced the Broad Bean to Romania puts me on a par with Diego Alvarez Chanca (chillies), Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq (tulips) and Sir Walter Raleigh (spuds and fags); and ditto with heirloom tomatoes - the tasty 40+ Kg I got off my few plants I put down to buffalo manure and talking to them in the King’s Bloody English instead of the nonsense the locals use.

Teacher:Ha, that’s a laugh!” will be what everyone who actually knows me is thinking. But I’ve realised during my current job that I’ve been more concerned for the career advancement of my bright young protégé than I have been for my own – which was maybe noticed and what did for my chances there. Also, I’m in a foul mood, and relish the feel of a well-sprung cane in my hand, it’s still legal here and, as they say, “If you can’t beat them…. where’s the fun in teaching?!

Social Worker: Mrs Dilo is a trustee of a half-way house for orphans here and we know many lads who’ve been through this institution – and a very fine one it is too, teaching them cookery skills, tact, and suchlike – who turn up at our door hoping for a square meal and a bath etc. I flatter myself that I get on quite well with them, and have the advantage that I like some stuff which may appeal to them which their guardians wouldn’t touch, e.g. music and dancing (many are Romany). I wouldn’t be paid.

Please vote for which job I should do! (No voting twice, now, and no bussing in people from other places to vote, and dead people are not eligible, how many times do you have to be told this........)

20 comments:

Gorilla Bananas said...

Well, teacher was originally my suggestion, but social worker is an even better idea. Not for gypsies though, their ancient code of honour might get you into trouble. Are there any upper class Romanian grandmothers with problems that need solving?

Ana said...

Yes, I vote teacher. I didn't know you could still cane them in Romania... perhaps I'll move there and we can start a school together. We shouldn't have any trouble deciding on a curriculum! ;-)

Alice Scradcza said...

Why you not take up welding? Is an honest career and people who can assemble or mend things are always needed. Are you 'snob'? Are welders not good people? Better than gigolos!

inkspot said...

Wow, you've offended Alice.

I vote for rent boy, but you've got to be a really really expensive one and write about it on your blog and give me 30% for doing nothing whatsoever.

Lulu LaBonne said...

I'm also keen on the idea of you being a rent boy and writing about it and I would want 25% for backing the idea.

You can do stick-breaking in your spare time - or combine it with a bit of teaching.

Brit said...

Have you considered becoming a Grunty Man? Or a competent but unmemorable drummer?

Gaw said...

Teacher? It's the well-sprung cane that appeals. Personally I would supplement it with an ink-splattered dap. You would then be prepared for all eventualities.

Pearl said...

I have to admit that when I read that when you brought up Sir Walter Raleigh and attributed "spuds and fags" to him, I thought -- for just a moment! -- "and don't forget the cigarettes"...

Damned English language.

Pearl

hamp said...

.....................................................

Gadjo Dilo said...

Bananas, gypsies, bless 'em, would like money rather than social work, and maybe that is a better solution generally speaking. Upper class Hungarian grandmothers, possibly, but I'd need to speak the lingo to be taken seriously.

Ana, I was told I could still cane them, but that may have been a joke. If we started a school here the curriculum would be only corporal punishment (and of course polishing our shoes, warming the toilet seats for us, etc).

Alice dear Alice, no I'm no snob and would probably have enjoyed being a welder. Unfortunately the only careers ever offered to me were things like accountancy and quantity surveying - that's the danger of passing exams.

Inky, ok, I'll give rent boy a go. Ever read The Romanian: Story of an Obsession? You can have 30% of nothing right now, in advance!

Lulu, ok, and 25% to you - hmm, this being a rent boy is kinda expensive. The motto of our skool shall be: "Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the stick breaker".

Brit, I am already a Grunty Man on many levels, though perhaps not the one you have in mind. I want to know more of this Dobson, and have just read the whole of Isaiah as a primer.

Gaw, and a bungy and a slide rule and a mortar board, eh? But I fear that the British education system has "progressed" since those far off halcyon days. Chiz.

Pearly, ahhhhhh, of course, the "separated by a common language" thing catches me out again! Cigarettes would also feature very prominently in my school, thanks for reminding me.

Hamp, ........................... to you too sir.

Kevin Musgrove said...

You could be a "I weld sticks together" man in a brothel. Given the relative difference in the overheads you'd be in a position to be competitively-priced compared to a pianist.

Madame DeFarge said...

I vote for horticulturalist. Then you could be paid by the letter and earn more than the other jobs. And you'd get to stand twirling roses between your fingers and look profound.

Gadjo Dilo said...

Kevin, sound economic sense. (You clearly got the impression from my previous post that I spend all my time in brothels; no, please let me reassure you that I learned my stick breaking in respectable massage parlours).

Madame deFarge, oh, I fear I did far too much twirling of roses and looking profound in my youth and am now reaping the bitter harvest of my foolishness!

The Dotterel said...

I think you should combine jobs four and six. After all, if you're doing a good job then the sticks should be broken, shouldn't they? (Are you sure it's still legal...?!)

Gadjo Dilo said...

Hi Dot, yes, I guess broken sticks would be a sign of a job well done in both cases; but no, I'm not entirely sure it's still legal, they may have be giving me false promises ;-)

Camilla Jessop said...

Have you considered becoming a motorcycle courier?

The Jules said...

Could you teach horticulture to rent boys?

Gadjo Dilo said...

Camilla, welcome again, I was once a (non-motorised) bicycle courier in London - but what makes you suggest that?

The Jules, as Dorothy Parker said, you can lead a horticulture but you can't make her think (like she'd have to if she was going to taech it as a subject, like, to rent boys, or whoever).

No Good Boyo said...

A job I've always fancied is being the pretty boy you look at while pounding some accommodating troll. Not sure if that ever happens, but it would be a real ego-boost. You could chat to the client's while they're at it - something your plainer colleague might feel disinclined to do during or after intercourse.

Gadjo Dilo said...

Boyo, it's a job waiting to be filled, and surely a novel that must be written. Ever read "Notes from a Turkish Whorehouse" by Philip Ó Ceallaigh?