Today's my signing day. It's not that special because tomorrow I get my housing benefit and I always live off it until the dole arrives.

I hate going down to sign on.

There're two types of people who work here.

1)People who don't like their jobs and just get on with it.
2)People who don't like their jobs and act like wankers out of boredom/frustration/bitterness/insert your own reason here.

There are of course sub-categories and just because you fall into 1) doesn't mean you won't sometimes be in 2) or vice-versa.

Anyways I've two people here I hate to sign me.

1) Ms Puddinghead - Called so for her purdy-esq hairdo, except it doesn't work on her because she has a head shaped like a cannon ball. She's so category two and is always ringing up companies to check if you've really applied to them. I once gave her the number of the flirt divert on radio one, and she phoned it loads of times. They played it on the radio, it was great. Bitch cut my dole off for it though.

2) The Albino - I'd like to say he's category one because he's always pleasant up until you get him to sign you. Then he turns into Ms Puddinghead, except he's like Ms Puddinghead player 2 or something because he's so white, when he's angry he goes mildly pink like a strawberry milkshake.

Anyway I get Ms Puddinghead and she's all nasty as fuck. Asking why I don't have a job. I think she knows I do crack. Thanks to that Pete Doherty wanker now everyone knows what we look like (I've better taste in clothes, especially hats). What she probably doesn't know is that I know where she lives, and that only last summer when she was away on holiday I went round her house and put a raw steak through her letter box. When she arrived home two weeks later the house was infested with rats.