Tag Archives: frustration

arty farty B******s

For the best part of two decades was gainfully employed in an educational establishment which included a School of Art and throughout that time my peers always regarded me as an uncultured, uneducated Philistine. And why would they be so rude as to condemn me to the everlasting disdain usually reserved for the audience of the Jeremy Kyle Show? My lack of understanding of modern art, of the meaningless crap for which modern day artists are rewarded for believing that things, like flicking a light switch on and off repeatedly, or drowning a sheep in formaldehyde, are art. They’re not. They’re the deranged machinations of scruffy hippies whose only real purpose in life is to take the piss. And boy do they do it well.

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is there a god?

It may be unorthodox, but I suspect the interview technique for anyone applying to be a telephone operator on the BT technical helpline, is that they sit the prospective applicant in a chair and ask them to read a script out loud while people throw things at them – paperclips, pens, mouldy slices of half-eaten pizza – anything that might distract them. And if they can get through this process without deviating from the script or answering the one serious question asked of them in the midst of all this mayhem, then the job’s theirs. And why do I suspect this? Bitter experience.

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