Of Coouuurse!
Copyright by Dave Lassut 2011
Published by Wonky Books at Smashwords
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Important note: Don’t forget to laugh.
EPUB ISBN: 978-1-908796-08-0
EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-908796-09-7
email: frankielassut@aol.com
Contents: Of Coouuurse!, The Amazing Mr Crappy Corkscrew. Cave.
There are two types of people who live under the belief that they must work for a living, and they are correct i.e. they must work for a living. They also, for the most, believe that they should not enjoy working for a living. Ironically, the ones who have jobs they enjoy, like what they do, yet the ones who hate what they do, don’t like what they do.
The ones that hate what they do, who know someone who gets to do what they like to do, usually fire the first bullet at the head of their ex compadre and say “Ahhh, you’ll soon get bored with it, and it will become just another job”, well, that’s what they hope, anyway.
Am I being too cynical?
Meanwhile, the ones that hate what they do, meet someone in the same situation, and suddenly become, ‘brothers’, or ‘sisters’? They then form a union, and try then to make what they hate to do enjoyable, or at least, tolerable; or, get a better reward for the torture.
Who needs vampires when you have, Management?
And who’s scared of vampires when you have Van Helsing i.e. a Union?
But. As always, there is always another path to pleasure.
THE MAGICAL WORLD OF FURTHER EDUCATION
OF COOOUUURSE!
A story of self improvement, based in The Ghost Town, Coventry; Narnia for Chavs.
I had just finished working over-exertion time. I have never understood or accepted why anyone should have to spend more time than necessary, doing what they hate, to get a few extra quid; it’s insane, but sadly, accepted.
I had a badly paid proper job you see, due to bad decisions in the Heavenly departure lounge; i.e. I was born of a working class family, and I was, as a result … skint! But proud of it! Although I couldn’t work out why I felt ‘proud’. Was it because I had managed to look like I was enjoying myself in the face of oppression of those who didn’t want me to enjoy myself? I wondered why some humans would be so mean? Did they want power or something?
Well anyway. I was staggering snakelike down the road, totally disorientated from this un-natural event, when I spotted a colleague coming towards me, he was smiling and looked really happy. I asked him why he was in such an obviously sunshine mood.
(Because it isn't exactly normal is it. He must be on drugs or something?!)
He told me that he was going in to see someone concerning the contents of an envelope he was carrying.
The contents were causing him to radiate a very jovial body language.
In fact, I’d never seen a bigger smile than the one he was wearing.
He was fully dressed!
My ‘full of the joys of natural Opiates’ colleague went on to explain that he was to be going on a FURTHER EDUCATION course, to better himself by learning plumbing; a rich man’s pastime I believe.
The course was full time.
Really?! I wondered how he would afford to live. What about a proper breadline job in the meantime while he trained? One with crazy shifts and all that shi ... Jazz? And what of afterwards?
I mean, fruit picking isn’t too lucrative: is it?! I I seriously believed that at one time, plumbers picked plums)
And you can hardly stuff your pockets with raspberries to make your wages up, can you.
“I’m being paid to do it” he said, while still beaming and he told me how much, which was better than what he or I were presently doing. Diddlypiddling about driving buses and transporting the ‘aware’ and the grateful, along with their shopping trolleys, crammed prams, guns, Rottweilers, and gold they didn’t need, for those with stalls and weighing scales. The news is, all of these people who are different from you are ok when you get to know them; it’s the ones running the show you have to watch.
“’You’ should do a course you know. Do you want the phone number?”
“Yeah sure! Thanks!”
(He scribbled it down for me on a twenty (believe that?)
The piece of ‘scrap paper’ tingled in my hand.
Aaaaagh! Mein Gott! A chance to change my life!
Opportunity knocks!
Bang! Bangedy bang bang! Financial abundance will be mine!
I felt a doozer of a smile coming to my face, one that would give his a run for its money. My dental bridgework glinted in the sunshine, blinding a passing pigeon which flew straight under a speeding BMW and suffered a slow painful death!
Yet!
Isn’t life a gift!
Aren’t we blessed to be alive!
No need to apply for Tarrant’s Millionaire! Lottery? Forget it!
Now the bank may give me my first chequebook in twenty years?!
I’m getting very excited here! So excited that I feel I'm going to have an org ... aaaaagh!
Sorry about that.
Has anyone got a tissue?
All I needed to do to change everything, was make a phone call. Easy!
Brrrrrt! Brrrrrt! ... Brrrrrt! Brrrrrrrt!
“Hello. This is Tile Hill College, Coventry designed for the purpose of looking like we are masterfully filling in the ten to sixteen year period of social conditioning provided by the contemptuously conniving comprehensive school system.
How can I help you ?”
(That college is now flats of course)
“Hello! Yes! I’m, er … calling to enquire about your full time courses?”
“Okay, good. You do actually understand that we pay you to mess around for twelve months getting wasted in local bars, reachable by bus, as we’re in the middle of nowhere; and at the end, you take an exam: hmmm; which you pass whatever happens! After which you are awarded with an obligatory run of the mill ‘A’ (yawn, Zzzzzzzz) level for Government spinnnnnnn-whooooo ha ha! Statistics, and the drawing of an impressive looking graph for the local papers and the BBC news.