Yesterday I walked back into the Connor Building on Great Victoria St to claim my dole. I fought back tears as I took a ticket and sat down waiting to be called.
Just to kick me in the balls, I ended up getting seen to by Mrs. Puddinghead. She almost salivated to see me back. She gave me my old signing day of Tuesday, to be half nice but she snorted a few times as she made shitty remarks about me being there for the long haul because there was no jobs.
She mustened have realised she was doing it because when I snorted back at her she leapt up and shouted:
"Are you calling me a pig? Do my feet have little trotters?"
I snorted again and tried to stop a tear trickling down my cheek, this was my moment, my perfect moment, just like Martine McCutcheon.
I left the dole office as miserable as Martine's pish song about Tiffany and Grant and what could have been. What could have been?
If this is too pish hear some better music by tuning in to Queen's Radio tonight for Rowan Hudson's show.
