You looking at me chicken neck?!

Gah!

That sums up my morning so far - gah!

I woke this morning to pleasant tweeting from the bitch that is my mobile phone.

"Get up you filthy waster...and make me some breakfast" it said.

That was weird.

Anyways, I arose, knowing I had to go to that god-awful place that all filthy wasters like me must attend on a fortnightly basis - the tax dodging office, known better to most as The Job Centre.

Bearing in mind that through a rather unpleasant twist of fate I ended up unemployed some time ago, it's in my interests to attend ye olde demotivation shope each fortnight to claim my measly pennies for being a tax dodging leech on society.

And so, with a hop, skip and a jump I was showered, dressed and off to visit the monster that would claim my eternal soul. Ha! Little does it know that I sold that off a long time ago to a man in the stress, who smelt faintly of smouldering concrete.

I arrived at the unholy place a good deal earlier than necessary, and handed my book over to the mute security guard who always looks at me with a mix of sheer loathing and a want to ravage my deepest and darkest places.

After shuddering I proceeded to the touch screen panels at which I might find salvation, however unlikely.

Suddenly, I was called, 15 minutes early.

"Gosh, golly and shim shim sheroo!" I proclaimed at the surprise.

"Good Morning Mr B, How are you?" said the same chap who usually sees me.
"Well thanks, you?" I replied in a tone that was carefully chosen so as not to seem rude, but equally so as not to encourage too much conversation.
"I'm good thanks, right lets get this done shall we?"

I assumed the position.

"Oh...." he said with a face that a dog only makes when being fed through a mincer.

"Oh?" I replied expecting the worst.

"You have an appointment for a review today at 13:40, Hamish (real name withdrawn) will sign you then, you don't need to be here"

Despite my mental flash which saw me gut the pathetic weed and proceed to exterminate the rest of the inhabitants of the building in various bloody ways, I controlled my anger.

"Em...and I was to know of this, how?"

"Oh you didn't get a letter? Well the person who signed you last time would have told you"

"You signed me last time", I replied, without hint of amusement in my voice.

"Oh!"

"Indeed"

When it became apparent he was slowly turning into a deer in headlights, I prompted him once more.

"So, can I be seen earlier then since its clear I was unaware of the appointment and no one saw fit to enlighten me?"

"Hold on, I'll go and ask Hamish if he can fit you in", he whimpered, scuttling off.

"Oh goody", I replied.

A few moments later, our friend and his newly found ally Hamish came over.

"Mr B, you would have gotten a letter about this appointment"

"I'm sure you'll maintain it was sent, but I can assure you, it never arrived, and I am getting all the rest of my post"

"Hmm..well I wont be able to see you before 13:40 I'm afraid, I'm just going on a tea break then I'll be busy with customers all the way up to your appointment and beyond"

"The increasingly intense look of thunder on my face caused him to take a step back, as I stood up"

"and I have arrangements today so as I see it, the only option is to reschedule it"

"Oh we can't do that, and you MUST attend"

"Are you deliberately trying to provoke me Hamish. Should I be waiting for someone with a camera to jump out about now...or is it you're just not listening to me?"

He stood there dumbfounded.

"Forget it I said, I'll make sure to put a complaint in" I ranted as I left.

On the way down the road back to the mansion, I thought about it and wondered why I hadn't asked to speak to a manager.

I got straight on the phone, and destroyed a woman, who we'll call, Isobel (why? because I can! - deal with it) who promptly offered to reschedule the appointment for Monday. Of course, that made me worse in some ways, given I had been told that was an impossibility.

After another rant in which she valiantly fought to get a word in edgeways, and subsequently failed, she agreed that I could have my appointment today, before 12 o clock, as I had to come and sign anyway, since the fools I had seen earlier had failed to do so.

So after my second trip into the wastelands of Wester Hailes, surrounded in the Job Centre by the great unwashed, I was seen by Isobel, who looked like a cross between a chicken and clitoris and she sorted everything, after 40 mins.

Honestly, they could save us all a lot of trouble by sacking themselves, and giving us the jobs they do, because clearly some of them can't make it to the shitter without a map and a torch.

Fucktards! It's been a while since I've used that terminology, but it seems somewhat appropriate.

However, I am calmed now, somewhat, and I can get back to my day.

I'm off to play Portal now :D

Denny Crane, over and out.