Brian's Brief Encounters

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

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

A Brief Resumé

Before I’d be let loose with my licence to kill.

I suspect that they might do some basic checks on me.

Like whether or not I have any form for leaving material marked ‘Top Secret’ in a pub, on a train, in a ditch or on the back seat of a taxi. I should be pretty safe with this one. The closest I’ve ever got to ‘Top Secret’ information was having a source on the canteen staff who always gave me the nod when chicken tikka masala was to be on the menu for the following day.

So, I thought it best to tone down my CV a tad. I have to admit removing the part about me teaching Kofi Annan everything he knows about diplomacy was a blow; but it’s probably for the best as I’m guessing they might ask him if he remembers me. He’s getting on now and I can’t rely on his memory. Similarly, even though it stung quite a lot, my first in Colonicology from Our Souls College, Oxted had to go too.

Adding these deletions to the others I wasn’t left with a lot to work with:-

A C.S.E. grade two (I wuz robbed) in needlework from a top inner-city comprehensive. Admittedly it was only top of the league for truancy, but I was one of their ‘high achievers’. This could explain why I wasn’t there to get my tap on the shoulder from the visitor from Vauxhall. I’m pretty sure I had an emergency poker game that day.

A six month stint as a Cub Scout. I’d have to be careful with this one, considering how it ended. Tent pegs at dawn, blood, tears and a court martial would be an accurate summary. Mother still can’t bear to talk about it.

A very hard paper-round.

I’m sure that even the most optimistic of people would be slightly daunted at applying for the job of stopping evil megalomaniacs from invading countries with these attributes. Although, I was hoping that the recruitment advisors would add sufficient weight to my proficiency with a tent peg. Imagine what I could do with a rocket launching tiepin?

With the advice to tailor a CV to the job for which one is applying; I did have one ace to play: The time I arrested ‘Osama’. This would be sure to impress even though it wasn’t quite enough to get Gorgeous to cough up the $50 million reward.

I have to confess that ‘Osama’ was driving to a party having had a few too many in the pub beforehand. My honed detective skills were instrumental in discovering that he was in fact Gary, a faux-cockney plasterer from Kent despite his insistence otherwise. His passengers, a tipsy Tinky Winky and a portly Spiderman, were left at a bus stop while ‘Osama’ accompanied us to the Small Corner version of Camp X-Ray.

I went into great detail on this, just in case they hadn’t read the intelligence report I submitted.

Besides, I had a lot of space to fill.

(…to be continued…)


At 13/7/06 2:45 AM, Anonymous I want to marry you and have your babies, if you have an Aston Martin! said...

Made me laugh out loud mate, after a shite day :)


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