I've got a bit of a gambling addiction

I've already got a 20 quid bet on with The Thould that I'm not going to be in a serious relationship by the age of 25 (like getting paid to breathe) and my latest one is with another Cheltenham weirdo.

C++, being the bloody unemployable lousy shite programmer that he is can't get any fucker to give him a job. Not bloody surprising really that bag of shit. I wouldn't let him clean my fucking bog.

Anyway, we've now got a bet on of my making.

As I don't particularly need a job right now, I've challenged C++ to find a job before me. First one to get a programming job wins. Given that I can't program I thought this sounded like a great way to mock my friends.

So I'm currently to be found online applying for jobs I am entirely unqualified for, making fake CVs with a Walter Mitty-like work history depicting a model of programming excellence. So far I have lied to 5 companies with such crap as...

"I have overseen the creation of sql-based financial websites at the highest level, supervising teams of over twenty people."

At the end of the day I've got nothing to lose and those agency fuckers have screwed me over enough times. Payback.

But on that note I realised that we, the staff should actually take more control of our recruitment. We all know that agency recruitment monkeys or whatever the fuck they want to call themselves are rarely ever right in their staff placement. We the staff need to collaborate. If we see a vacancy that any of our mates would fit, we should bloody well apply with a fake CV that we reckon would get them the job, without their knowledge.

Then they'll get a pleasant surprise when they get a job they didn't even apply for. Even if the qualifications were completely fabricated.

It's time to fuck the agencies back up the arse. They don't mind fucking us over so let's have a laugh at their expense for once.

C++ with my fake CV on the loose you don't stand a cats chance in hell mate!

I need to watch how I word this one...

Been doin my observations this week in preparation for my PGCE, so I've been at a primary school all week watching kids.

This week has been a riot, messin around in school with a load of primary school kids, watching them and playing around. Today was probably the funniest day of the week though. Having worked my way from the year 6's on monday through every year, going down a year every day I found myself today having the pleasure of the nursery, the school's youngest age group of 3-4 year olds.

I had a feeling I wasn't going to enjoy this so had a backup plan in place to go to the year 3's if it all went wrong.

And boy did it go wrong...

I walked into the nursery and introduced myself. Looking around there were about fifteen 3 year olds variously amusing themselves in the sandpit or painting or reading or sitting down. One of the teachers was sitting by the door to the garden sewing a curtain to put over the door and i walked around looking at the childrens work.

"What's that you're painting?" I asked looking at an undefined mass of blue and green all over a tabletop. "That's my dad" She replied. "Oh dear" I said.

Suddenly one of the children threw up. All over the curtain the teacher was working on. Then he carried on throwing up all over the floor. For about 2 minutes straight.

But what you find about little kids is that, unlike us old gits, they don't realise that being sick is not normal everyday behaviour and he just seemed to think that it was perfectly normal and carried on merrily throwing up.

Meanwhile the rest of the class had gathered around and to add to the chaos, one of the girls started to wet herself.

Enough was enough I thought, made my excuses and left.

What a bundle of laughs kids are I thought, chuckling to myself as I tried to get as far away from them as possible.

Snog Party

I've often said with some bitterness that I was never really invited to the 15 year old snog parties that all my peers attended, those drunken house parties where clueless teenagers lost their cherries or at least bragged about it on monday morning.

As a teenager I was not exactly introverted but generally prefered the company of my rescue dog, Ben or that of older people than the company of my own age group and hence weekends would be spent either in my mums shop or endlessly walking my beloved dog while everyone else tried to get drunk and shagged.

Today I think I finally laid the bitterness to rest. I was always bitter not because I wanted particularly to go to these parties just that I would have liked to have been invited to them just to kknow where they are and to see what happened, and in a way to have been accepted into the so-called "cool" circle.

But I was never cool, I was and remain an observer to the standard social structure, but as I've grown wiser I realise that really that is where I belong, and I no longer wish to be involved with the standard wetherspoons drinkers.

Today I went to 2 house parties.

The first was with my carnival family, the Yaa, who I have spent most of the last 2 months with eating, sleeping, breathing and living carnival. It was round at "Auntie" Merle's house and everyone brought a dish or some drinks. It was brilliant.

It was more like a famiily gathering than a house party per se, with a mix of ages from 7 to 70 and everyone was comfortable in each others presence with no frontin' or pretension. Barbequed jerk chicken and soca music among friends and I felt honoured to be part of the Yaa family.

Louisa (or Tim as we called her) invited me to another that same day and I figured I had nothing to lose. So I went round to this house in Hammersmith full of under 25s drinking and standing in corridors, realised it was gonna be shit, stayed 5 minutes, found out it was shit and left.

So to all my peers back in school, all is forgiven. I'm now glad that I never got invited to these and hope no-onw ever invites me to this sort of crap again.

Carnival photos

Just uploaded some pics of carnival onto http://photos.yahoo.com/andytgeezer