My life as a male prozzy in London wasnt working out too well as nobody likes haemorrhoids as big as a gorillas nipples... so i packed up my swag and headed to Birmingham, where i got a job at a company who make Vans that dont work very well and are descended from Austin Allegros.
I lasted one day... just couldnt take the job seriously. In the end i got a bit carried away and management called the local constabulary to have me removed.
Im now back in London, and finding that a firm buttplug is keeping my gigolo lifestyle on track.
Heres a few picks of my day, working for Leyland Daf.
Couldnt keep out of them for a start:
Work ethic was crap, kept hitting things when they wouldnt work:
Wouldnt come down and insisted on singing 'Im the king of the Castle':
Food and canteen service was crap:
Found the floor polisher to be 'too vibrateyy':
Kept trying to 'open Portals':
Pretend rally driving with extra engine, gear change, brass clutch engagement and wheelspin sound effects doesnt impress your average foreman:
Again, couldnt keep out of them:
Mmmm, i love big headlights... do you like mine?
Its missing half its cylinders and its got 'fuel injection'.... wtf i cant win burnout competitions with a lawnmower engine:
Nearly strangled myself with some door rubbers:
Do you want it manual, or air assisted?
Twilight Zone:
Needs a lick of paint you'dve thought, no one likes primer.
I kept getting lost you see: