Brian's Brief Encounters

This is an Unofficial Kaffe Fassett fanzine. Brought to you from a Leafy Suburb of the Throbbing Metropolis.

Friday, July 07, 2006

At Your Service Ma'am

Yes, yes I know.

It’s not strictly true anymore.

Somewhere along the line we seem to have painted ourselves into a bit of a grey area; albeit a grey area that was slowly turning more black and white as the days passed. Now we’re back in the corner with a thick fog obscuring the route out. Just who are we supposed to be protecting and from who or what? Oh, that’s right, I remember now. We’re protecting everyone from everyone else. That’s simple enough then; now all I need to know is who’s at the top of the pecking order today?

Traditionally, we work for the reigning monarch; they even get a free thirty minutes of my time every now and then. These days we don’t get too many demands from that direction. I don’t know if anyone has broken the news to Junior yet but, by the time he’s had Changing Rooms in to jazz up the wind farm in the back garden of SW1A 1AA it won’t be his peace we’ll be struggling to keep.

As a dyed in the wool patriot this realisation disillusioned me somewhat. After all, I only joined so that I could do my bit to make the Throbbing Metropolis a nicer place for our pensioners; aiming to keep their bedrooms Chav-free and to prevent naked paragliders from landing on their roofs. Maybe I could concentrate on helping just one out with a career change then?

I narrowed down my options. I don’t know one end of a pumice stone from the other, so a footman post wasn’t for me. My bitch turns her nose up at my cooking and opts for the tin every time, Mrs Brian has pointed out on numerous occasions that moving things around doesn’t match the dictionary definition of “cleaning” and I’ve long accepted that I don’t have the requisite gravitas to be a butler. I mean, how many butlers do you know who own a whoopee cushion? State dinners would never be the same again.

I considered offering my knoll building services too. In my book, every land owner should have at least one knoll from which to ambush their neighbour; you never know when you might need it. However, it’s a long way to Calais from Victoria and I didn’t think that even the most powerful Super Soaker would reach that far.

Feeling certain that the right opportunity would turn up soon, even if I had to widen my net a touch, I kept one eye on the recruitment section of the Leafy Suburb Tribune and the other on constant watch for nude aviators. You never know when they might strike.

My patience was finally rewarded with this advert. If ever a job were tailor made for me this was it. It looked like it came with a pretty natty company runabout too. I’d make sure to ask about the dual fuel version at the interview to keep Junior happy. I was certain he would want me to keep my carbon emissions to an absolute minimum while travelling the globe saving it from destruction.

Now all that needed doing was to update my CV.

And to practice my eyebrow arching.

(…to be continued…)


At 7/7/06 10:27 AM, Anonymous Snoop said...

Good to see "to be continued"...

By the way, I agree with Tom in his comment about moving your top piece to the sidebar - it looks like you haven't added a post since and hence nothing new to view.

At 7/7/06 10:42 PM, Blogger Lizzy said...

bloody ell
followed the link and it says April. Does that mean that the update promises details of the selection process/interview? Blimey I'm impressed. so real soon now, I can sleep safely in my bed, secure in the knowledge etc.


ps at last the dodgy id word means something. It's liltp which must be the consequence of drinking canned tropical fizzy stuff

At 9/7/06 12:51 PM, Blogger Stan Still said...

I would imagine that MFI, sorry, MI5 would be as delighted with your blogging as the management of the Throbbing Constabulary were.

You would have wire taps on your laptop and men in overcoats following you everywhere.


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