Data Entrance...

Throwing off the shackles of the working world, placing my tie into one of my housemates bra's and setting it alight, tossing back my hair and stumbling drunkenly about the country attempting to save vicious ex cons from themselves with a piece of chicken and a can of lager....




This was my vision of unemployment. It was a beautiful vision filled with carefree abandon, picnics and a visit from God, kindly offering to return my wasted years to me. There would be a 'Welcome' sign above my home as I returned from my final day in the office, there would be trumpets and small dancing Irish children dressed as leprauchans. Radiohead would be there, Blur would be there, Jimi Hendrix would be there...alive and well.



I would be embraced by a secret community of jovial non office workers, healthy of skin, permanently 20, besides themselves with excitement to see me.... the world of opportunity and inspiration would unferl before me like a Red Carpet that lapped at the beach of triumph like a clear Caribbean sea.



So here I am, sitting in the office of my parents Garden Centre lending an unpaid helping had at some data entry and chuckling at a man whose surname is 'Smelley'.



In my quest for funds that do not involve interviews and irons, I have arranged to meet with my landlord on Monday. (There's more to this and it doesn't involve bums so bear with me).



He will then take me to a wholesaler that he knows, who sells bikes. At this point I shall attempt to negotiate ownership of some of these bikes spending 100% of my remaining funds. The idea being that I can sell these champions of the road, tamers of traffic the jam, sell them through gumtree for profit in a very short space of time....



- I have a booked holiday for August 11th

- I'm about to spend to my last pennies on bikes that may or may not sell

- I am doing data entry for free to fill time during my freedom

- Claiming housing benefit is nigh on impossible due to having a lacadasical lebanese landord (fantastic alliteration, with ominous consequences)

- After posting various adverts around cyber space claiming that I am the worlds greatest copywriter, the Dali of copy, I have a spurious business link with an SEO agency who 'may have some work coming up for me'

- I'm currently scoffing at people who have given email address's to my parent business with titles like: lizandphil@hotmail.com...i mean, why centralise your email? To save on cyber space? Does it generate arguments, like 'have you been checking my emails again?' 'They're not yours they're mine, you've been doing the spying not me'...etc



The portents are all there....how do you see this ending? Answers on a Postcode to:



Alex Lewis

Some street corner or other in London

Nr a bin.