Maybe time for a change

socialist

The great thing about moving to another country is that I can totally reinvent myself. Well, maybe not totally since the internet happened, but I don't need to be bogged down by the things people here know me for. Not that the internet bring sup much on me. Having a Scottish Socialist Party leader share my name kind of keeps me out of the news. I didn't realise how "social" socialists really were until the recent news that they were all shagging each other. Kind of fitting that a socialist would go to a swingers club though. Dedication.

That's one pretty sweet thing about having moved around so much,  I've had the benefit of multiple clean slates. I used to think that changing schools so much as a kid and then leaving my home town was a bad thing. However, when I found out that someone who used to be in my year at school is still widely known as the guy who shit himself in class, I figured it could be worse. It was great to go to a new school and sit back and watch some other swot get pestered for answers from the stupid fucks in the class. Having some pretty badass cousins and uncles kept me well protected in Motherwell, but once I moved I was on my own. So (in two completely unplanned incidents by the way) I immunified myself from bullying at two different schools by punching someone in the face in my first week or so there. I think that's a pretty good return on the only two punches I've ever thrown in my life. The third one is always ready though, so don't fucking start.

Back in 2002 I decided not to eat meat anymore, just before I started a new job. So over the years everyone there knew me as the vegetarian. Being veggie was my thing. That was the thing my boss could joke with me about to give the impression that she knew me.

filing cabinet

One thing that is guaranteed is that I'll be changing jobs, because this time it will be impossible for me to end up working with European funding again. I took that job for one month, and eight years and thousands of pages of bullshit later I might just get my wish and get away from it forever. I don't particularly like bid writing, but I have had enough of a knack for bullshitting to keep me in a job and pay for myself a few times over. It does become a tad soul destroying though when you successfully bullshit your way to a large sum of money for your employer, for them to turn down the cash and send you packing. When I was made redundant I legitimately felt relief that I was finally getting away from the boredom of the job I had fell into by default, and the weight of a thousand skeletons was lifted from my shoulders. My pride took a knock, particularly since it stole my thunder with the whole "I'm buggering off to another country and you're staying here in the rain" thing. I don't get much thunder, so this would be like cock blocking the star wars kid.

But really, I was relatively chipper about the whole deal. Unfortunately since very few people are stupid enough to do my job, I barely had time to put down my pen of mis-truth and exaggeration before I was snapped up to do my Winston Wolf for someone else. The Costa Coffee's good though.  OK, once I leave here I'll still be working for my current employer, but once that's done it's done. All over. So as far as new occupations go I can choose anything really. My visa states that the only thing I can't be is the President, but I think there are plenty of other options anyway. I could be the Walmart MC, welcoming everyone to my store, which seems such an important job because if no one welcomed me to a supermarket I'd just leave. I could sell stuff on TV like that dead guy used to. I could set up a chip shop and fry some fried shit. I could open up a pub, but I don't think Tipton County is ready for that.

Another great thing about moving around is that your friends stories become your stories, and now that I am moving a bit further afield I also have every British TV show ever made to draw from. I can tell people of my life living in a pink castle, my cousin who goes mental when he drinks Midouri, the time I caught a robber in London whilst wearing a Batman costume, the time I had a pretend gun fight with some neds outside a pub, and the time I sold someone a dead parrot.

I can also change my whole look. I've never had a mullet. I could get a slightly off the wall hat, and be known as "The guy who always wears that hat. What? Even in bed? Yes, so I've heard". I could get a leather jacket. But maybe I'll just grow a beard and get a tattoo.