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| November 8 2001 Thursday No mail this morning and we usually get something even if it's only junk mail. At school today I had an interview with the Careers Master about Work Experience. What a load of old bollocks that is! He asked me what sort of work experience I wanted. I told him I didn't want to experience any work at all until it was absolutely necessary, and only then dragging and screaming. He said it was compulsory, and furthermore that he wanted some sense out of me, because thus far of the nine boys in my class who he'd seen so far three had said they wanted work experience as a gynaecologist and one as a stud in porno films. I told him that I wanted to be an Ibiza deckchair attendant. He said the nearest he had to that was working in a travel agency and he put me down for that. That should be fun! Cleaned the rabbit's hutch. The smell doesn't get any better. I don't know what my father's been feeding it on but you wouldn't like it on toast. Also cleaned the car. With the rabbit. That last bit was a lie, but I might just, one day. Cleaning the car is yet another of the things that will 'make a man of me.' I once pointed out to my father that it would be much more like a man if I took the car down to the filling station and ran it through the car wash the same as every other man on our street does, but he just told me to get on with it and stop moaning. The truth is he's too bloody mean and I'm free labour. |
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