South Afica here we don't come

I want to set the record straight that I have no desire to rival Anne Frank in my progression of what may now be a similar retelling of godforsaken misery, if one indeed were to in unaffected conscience consider being unemployed in a recession not too dissimilar to hiding a star clad arm in Nazi occupied Holland.

In any case my week started off with a little cash on the hip considering the FAI pay through the nose for the most basic of services, one of which my brother was more than happy to offer me as a handy earner and time filler. 80 squids to lay out some kit for the protagonists of the Munster Emerging Talent Programme I felt a proud hand involved in doing my best to support the Irish footballing men of tomorrow. Leaving extremely discouraged (don’t book any flights to South Africa just yet) I was all the same happier for having earned what in many circles could be accused as being misallocated funds, hey a man’s gotta drink.

After an 8 pack of Hollands finest offering (didn't Anne Frank drink Heineken?) and a few pages of Flan O Brien's “The third policeman” (thanks Disgrace) whose writing can only be described as perfection literised (neologism abounds in healthy measure), I regarded the clock unabashedly screaming a time of 4am suggesting a giant leap from slumber some time the following afternoon. How mistaken I was, 08:30 my hung-over late for work aforementioned sibling stood at my bedroom door with yet another outrageously overpriced little errand. As much disappointed with the interruption as I was appreciative of the extra cash, in a world in which some struggle for food it perplexes how alcohol is provided for in abundance in the absence of income and a hole in my bank account whose dimensions are a heart wrenching testament to the black one in Calcutta.

All in all raising from the depths of death at such a late hour leave little room for entertainment considering the Seoige sisters have about as much chemistry as a Junior cert geography class and the afternoon show proves as informative as a pound shop cook book fused with the fashion section of the RTE guide.

The days are becoming more and more suited to staying in bed, a dangerous occupation considering any job worth it’s salt enjoys the lighter hours.