Job Lot

In these parts some refer to it as the Nat King, others the broo, but mostly it's the dole. I've been unemployed for the last couple of months and although the hours are great it's fair to say the money is pish. Today was my last trip to the Job Centre to sign on as I'm starting a new job next week so guess what today's topic is? Yes, I am that obvious.

Billy Connolly: Three Men From Carantyne



Before he made shite jokes about being minted and hanging out with minor Royals, Billy Connoly was actually a fantastic comedian. Before that he was something of a troubadour who swung between folk and comedy. Cop Yer Whack for This is one of his comedy albums and Three Men From Carantyne is a song about an ever-growing troop of people going to sign on. I can sympathise.

Glen Campbell: Wichita Lineman



A love song with a telephone engineer as the central character is something that only really works if you transport it to the wide open spaces of the US. Can you imagine the British equivalent? Even with Jimmy Webb's songwriting skills, Glen Campbell's velour smooth voice and sweeping strings it's fair to say that Warrington Lineman just wouldn't have the same timeless appeal.

The Frank & Walters: Happy Busman



The Frank & Walters are still one of my favourite bands from my teens. Daft haircuts, lysergic power pop ditties about buses, trainspotters and bad trips, all sung in the thickest of Irish brogues. If only the world had more bus drivers like Andy James - no fares, pink carpet and bubbles and a driver who loves everyone like his family. Infinitely better than overpriced tickets, sticky floors and cretinous chavs listening to the latest cock cheese through tinny mobile phone speakers.

Half Man Half Biscuit: 24 Hour Garage People



Maybe a tenuous one here but it's going in as I have been on both sides of this tale: the drunken arse at the garage who can't decide which sandwich he wants, and the poor bugger on the other side of the counter who is doing this job to help get through university. I think the garage I worked at had probably the most educated staff of any company I've worked at since. We used to discuss the Kantian morals between serving dodgy sausage rolls and fucking about with nervous teens when they asked for ten fags and a packet of skins.

Stoner: Eh, man, eh, can I get ten Regal King Size, a clipper and a packet of blue Rizla?

Me: How come you need the papers AND the cigarettes?

Stoner: (blanching) Eh, well, aye, eh... it's just in case the fag breaks and we need to, like, eh, repair it.

Me: Reeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaalllly?

We used to have a sweep on how long it would be before the same teens would return to buy Jaffacakes, juice and shiny things.

CJ Bolland: Sugar is Sweeter



I'll admit that it is whether a sugar daddy is actually a job is debatable to say the least. However, this post is been written as Friday night hoves into view and it feels like the perfect lead in to the weekend's carnage. Have fun.