Cometh the Job Seeker, I have a quest!

OK, so Latin America did have all these things combined with corruption and hey, it even had Twix's! Imagine the shock! Luckily they didn't taste as good and after some in depth research into the side of a wrapper (actually a 28 hour bus journey with ill prepration and no reading material). I concluded/guessed it must be a chemical added to the chocolate to stop in melting at higher temperatures, which as a side product also makes it taste like mud, not a fresh mud or mud that can be easily identified as mud, but something you actually hope is mud, because the other option would kickstart your gag reflex.

After 12 months of hard bribartering (the complicated act of bartering with an offical into how much you are going to bribe them) I returned home, to embrace the tyrannical hard arm of UK corporations and to beaten back into a simpering mess of a man, sorry, worthy member of the community.

Im now looking for work in a community of fear, not good old fashioned terrorist fear that mainly unhinges the paranoid (who, by thier nature are already scared of the backs of people heads and animals talking abusively in crowded places) but a fear that cripples everyone. The fear the corporations have of not being able to make enough profit to buy all the stakeholders a limo full of champagne and high class hookers (is there a school for hookers or a GNVQ? What qualifies high class, do you need an in depth knowledge of fellatio whilst spurting quips from Niche inbetween gobbles). Corporations are scared, spending is cut and jobs are lost. Job seekers (I like that title, makes it sound very Lord of the Rings) are left continually job seeking, like looking for invisible lint in Andre the Giants navel.

Finding work (sorry Job Seeking) now makes me feel like a male prostitute in Whitehall. I'm strutting by Tory politicans Mercades Benz, rubbing my tushie on drainpipes and teasing them to wind down thier windows (or press the down button). Most slow down then speed off, but some do grind to a halt, the window creeps down and then they gasp horribly as they witness the elephant man with inch thick, deep rouge blusher and bulging leather hot pants, seductively licking his garganutan blistering lips. Perhaps I need to work on my CV or not write my covering letter on yellow lined paper in green crayon.