Unemployed arts student


Let’s see: Unemployed Arts Student. Barren CV.

I know the type. I am the type. LinkedIn = school and (expected) grades.

“Student at University of St Andrews.” 3 in the country? My my…

My passing comments when the news is on render my parents
In giggles at home. (Too easy). So I’m funny.

I could write something funny. “Oh you should darling!”

Does that mean I’m trying my hand at satire? Hmm.
I suppose I just need an outlet for my genius to make me

A fully-fledged author. Give me a notch on the ol’ CV. ‘Friend’! Advise me!

How about The Stand?” – Mmm. Very established. Too cool maybe.

Well, it used to be. And they’re like human thesauruses,

Remarkable vocabularies. Adjectives are nice.

I could never keep up! Not on my own verbal steam.

The Albany Parker?” – Mmm – isn’t it ‘The Sinner’ now? Either way

I doubt they’d welcome some anxious neophyte like me…

Why, they have completely seized the reins on satirical humour

In St Andrews! The only paper! They’re a bit nasty too! They said The Saint

have bored students with mundane stories.’ Satirical?!

Isn’t that just LIBEL?! Surely they-

“- No. It’s a joke. It’s satire. It’s meant to be funny. 

Not hilarious. Just funny. Observant. And it has license to say stuff like that!

If you can’t see it, you had better put that pen of yours down

– and close that grubby laptop – at once!
You clearly don’t get what satire is about.

Ok Ok! Well I’m not really sure what satire is.

I’ve just heard the word banded around a fair bit,


Since the real world won’t yet take me

– For all my undiscovered talent –

I may as well use this damned Arts degree for once in my aimless life.

But the question remains – where can I publish? And what do I write?!

This enigmatic comedy machine: Shiteshead Revisited 

– he’s all over Facebook by the way (a resurgence/insurgence?) –

Rejected me at his online doorstep.

He likes Ma Bells. I’ve only been to Ma Bells once and

That Daunting Monolith of Tall Blønd Europeans, surrounded by their

smaller, uglier american/english pilot-fish,

Was staggering enough a sight to drive me out the front doors

and back home!  (If) Mr. S. Revisited is from this crowd –

I doubt we’d have got on anyway.

Besides. He has enough material to sustain that repute of his!

I can only follow in his footsteps. Marvel at his tastefully lewd style.

Wonder at the sartorial preoccupation. So very… reverse-gauche?

Toast to, clink, genius! His satire-thing has got ‘em all going.

– 305 Facebook friends and counting to his name (alias) –

A pre-ordered online crowd. Creative Marketing genius. cray-crayFiSh broth.

“SO WHO IS IT?” time will tell. It’s cold when you’re lonely.

“Right. Enough of him! He’s already entity of his own! Join a team of

Team of existing writers. They’ll help you – it’s the way to go!”

Lord knows I can’t stomach the gravitas of The Stand

or The Alban- I mean The Sinner.

I guess The Saint seems friendly enough!

In fact –YES! The ‘goody two-shoes’ paper would suit me perfectly!

Perhaps there will come a day when I think of something to write,

Get it published-shared-liked-viewed-liked-shared then

I might climb my way up the rungs of the St Andrews ladder!

(But it’s cold at the top!)

– Oh. No No No! I didn’t mean that ladder, crowned with

The crisp tartan of those tall-chiseled-dignified-gallant-and:

Fine K.K. gentlemen.

I meant I could attempt to climb from the anodyne depths of

The Saint columns – “They’re not all ‘tall chiseled gentlemen’ you know! 

You’re forgetting the-” Oh Christ! How did I forget the piglets! And the Shrimps! And-

(whispered): “I was going to say you’re forgetting the women.”

Oh. Yes. That’s right. Quite ‘cool’ to do that. Now. Quite the Vogue.

Of course…

I mean… it’s only fair and – about time too! 260 archaic years of

Tradition dashed-reevaluated-updated isn’t it? Or is that –

Nevermind. “Aein Aristeuein I say. A(n) historic day!

The Saint shall be my literary base-camp. As the saying goes:

The Sinner’s the limit to man’s ambitions.” What a sobering thought.

So: If anonymity is the limit to a writer’s fame. And if beer is best served chilled,

Then Satire is (?) best served to readers with judicious noses. Or not.

Ahh the warm comfort of a non sequitur. What a wonderf-


“FOR SHE’S jolly good fellow! For she’s a jolly good-”

– But nobody can deny she’s still hooking it.



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