Can Anybody Fly This Thing?

I don't really like to talk about work but for some reason I always mention it on here. So, continuing with tradition I will give a brief summary of the past few weeks. It all started with me being laid off. Despite there still being much filing to be filed, my filing job came to an end. Maybe this was because the only things getting filed were my nails. I was managing to read at least a book a week though and do my own bits of admin, like writing fan mail to Dr. Dre, designing new fonts, that kind of thing. Anyway, in typical Hoskin 'final day at work' tradition I stole a load of food from the fridge, sent the office hottie an email telling her she was, indeed, the office hottie, and a whole host of other things usually reserved for 15 year olds or people from Liverpool.

So imagine my discomfort when on my first day of unemployment I received a phone call to say they wanted me back. Cringe. Luckily the hottie was well impressed with the compliments, nobody mentioned the food and I managed to clean off the shit I'd smeared on the walls. Not really. It's still there. This time, however, I have been given a proper job. I have a job title and everything. Booooo. Basically, a woman was leaving and they rushed me in to fill her place until they find a permanent replacement. I was given one weeks rushed training and sat infront of a computer. Honestly, they may aswell have sat me in the cockpit of a plane and gone 'fly it.' I have not got a scoob what I'm meant to be doing but all I really need to do is blag it for three weeks and then I'm out of here.

The office seems to be over bulging with those funny people. You know, gays I think they're called. One group all meet in the kitchen before home time to have 'group huggies' and drop more innuendos than a whole series of Graham Norton. I call them the gAy Team. Anyway, one of the rent boys is from America and I get the feeling he fancies me. The other day he came up to me and asked if I could play an instrument. "Any instrument, I don't care what it is, just can you play any instrument?" "Well, I play a bit of guitar," I said. "Cool," he snapped, "you're in my band." A few questions later and I had found out that the band consisted of me and him, practice was to be held at his house and due to the fact that he insn't very musical, he will 'just sing a bit.' Brillant. Do you have some sweets and maybe a puppy you can show me? Imagine that, turning up and he's stood there infront of a microphone naked. "What are you doing mate?" "Well, our band name is The Naked Sodomists and we are doing a dress rehearsal. Just pop your clothes on that chair and come over here." "I've forgotten my guitar." "Doesn't matter, we can make sweet music without it." Sounds a bit too Pet Shop Boys for my liking.


I realise this is starting to sound like an ego trip but there is also a woman in the office who fancies me. Short blonde hair, Australian, blue eyes, softly spoken. You know that image you've got in your head right now? Scrap it. She's short, fat, and over 50. Minging to the point that I cringe when she's licking her lips around me. "Paul, you are absolutely gorgeous," she said. "If you were here for longer I'd introduce you to my daughter." "Well," I jokingly replied "I'm here for a few more weeks and it only takes a couple of minutes tops. Bring in a photo and I'll see what I can do." Unbelievably she was made up with this prospect despite me having just said in short 'bring in a photo of your daughter, I'll see if she's fit or not, and if she is, job's a good 'en and then I'll be offskis.' Bless her though, despite the fact I rarely talk to her, she invited me around to spend Christmas with her and her family. I don't care what her real intentions are, I think that's a lovely offer and it warmed my heart. Unfortunately, housemate Ryn has already offered her family up for entertainment so we will be spending Christmas there instead. So I had to tell the woman at work, "I'm sorry, Mrs Robinson, but Jesus loves you more than you will know."