I was able to offer someone a project, a well-paid project, something he was very keen to do and he jumped at it. He submitted his quotation and his commitment to perform, this was accepted by all three parties involved and he was given the contract. Once that was signed, sealed and delivered he said, “can I have my money up front please, I’ll commence the work when I get the money up front – ok!” The threat was implied.

You know, I think in many ways this is a good example of why I wanted to get out of mainstream work. It wasn’t the core work I was involved in. I always tended to find most of what I did to be interesting, challenging and attention / focus holding; something I call the “farts” got me worn out and something that we all have to accept is within ALL business / work.

One takes on some multi gazillion dollar project with all its inherent difficulties and challenges, one puts one’s all into it, works one’s arse off, solves the problems, breaks down the seemingly unassailable ramparts and then some little shit comes along and drops a molecule, an apparent micro gram weight problem on the whole and that feather weight puts a complete and utter spanner in the works. The fart!

You try and reason with them. You tell them, “but we’ve given you a really nice chair to sit on and it’s even ergonomically designed, so what’s the problem?”

“I don’t like the colour blue, it doesn’t suit my complexion; I want a pink chair.”

“We asked you what kind of chair you wanted before you started working for us didn’t we and we took you on, we gave you a job, a really nice job; we gave you the chair you asked for; you didn’t tell us at that time it had to be pink. Did you? They don’t make these chairs in pink.”


Those were the things that really used to do my head in – of course in my working time, well in the earlier days at least, we were allowed to hit people; and get away with it.

I am led to believe in this day and age of political correctness and gender equality, and even though most of us these days, those of us who are over 50 at least, are still uncertain as to how many genders abound in the world at this time: I am persuaded to believe that choice, choices are part of the problems our masses are faced with today; some of them, I am told, even want to eat brioche, and that can only lead to the guillotine.

A friend of mine, he’s 49 by the way, this friend of mine told me recently that he thought the gender count at present was standing at 7 but he did say that this gibbet of modern information was taken from a 2014 dated report he had read; he did make the point that the total number could have increased by now. And although irrelevant to my general point here, he also happened to mention how difficult it was these days to choose the gender correct public lavatory every time he needed a slash. Male, Female, Transgender Light (pre op), Transgender Medium (pre op but with breast enhancement), Transgender Heavy (post op had the snip and tuck), Polysexual and As Yet Undecided. He said the symbols displayed are quite mind boggling and the choices offered almost as soul destroying as the number of cereal types available in American Hypermarkets.

He told me, “Peter I went into my local Hypermarket in LA CA,” (I tried to find Laca on a map of America but it wasn’t included in the Index, so fluck knows where he lives, some hillybilly village perhaps), “I went to buy some Cocopops and you wouldn’t believe the number of rows of aisles they had there all full of varying types and brands of Cocopops. At one point turning the corner of perhaps the 32nd row I had trudged down, I saw a sign in the 33rd aisle row that said, ‘you are now crossing the State Line of CA and Entering AZ: AZ welcomes folks licensed to carry concealed weapons, have a popping good day now.’ You won’t believe this Peter but as well as having sugar free, fat added Cocopops, they also have non-racially biased Cocopops.

These are called CocoCaucasianPops, CocoHispanicPops, CocoAsianPops (although I did notice that they were right at the very end and right next to the Spring Rolls) and most interestingly off all, CocoIndigenousAmericanPops which on the back of the packet has inscribed an apology from the manufacturers which says, ‘sorry for stealing your country and slaughtering your main food source – try our CocoIndigenousAmericanPops instead.’ And yes I did ask but I was told that they were in the Kosher section, back in La Ca, and I wasn’t going all that way back, 32 miles, just to look at the CocoJewPops. Anyway, I never did find the plain ones we get in England so I’ll just have to keep walking I suppose. Apparently I’ve just crossed another State Line. I’m in NY now by the way, the weather changes quite quickly here; it was bright sunshine when I started shopping, it’s chucking it down with snow now and everyone’s very rude in this aisle.”

I tried looking ‘Knee’ up and the closest I got was Wounded Knee but anyway, I haven’t heard from him since; well it’s a big place America isn’t it? It must be with all those varieties of flucking Cocopops (and genders) they have!

So anyway, getting back to the core problem; I solved it of course. I just hit him and you know, it seemed to do the trick – he’s settling for the blue chair – mind you, he didn’t have much bloody choice really, I felled him with one hit and he landed in heap, and right in that lovely blue chair!

Don’t worry though; when he comes to I’ll have a nice bowl of CocoPops waiting for him; if I can manage to choose a variety that is!

​(From a correspondent, who is currently transitioning to a cream puff.)​

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