2001-11-21 - 10:11 p.m.

�I�m the goodness in the bad, I�m the saneness in the mad, I�m the sadness in the joy, I�m the gin in the gin soaked boy�the gin-soaked boy��

It�s not easy keeping up my impeccable record of turning up for job interviews smelling like a distillery that�s repeatedly failed all its health and safety checks, but I get by with a little help from my friends. Or at least, one spectacularly cool new friend. Tuesday night intoxication for the price of a bottle of tonic water? Just say yes.

I went for a job at an copywriting agency � I know it�s dangerously close to advertising, but they work with clients who produce mail-outs for charities, etc, so I didn�t feel TOO much like one of Satan�s little helpers. You know you�re in trouble when you walk into the overly-chromed reception, staffed by people with the looks and literacy levels of eurotrash catalogue models. They seemed uncomfortable dealing with anyone not 6�2�, wearing a black polo neck and with cheekbones you could hang your brolly off. But once I�d dealt favourably with the cosmopolitan choice of coffees, they at least knew that I understood their universe, and that even fashion amoeba like me sometimes get to work in nice shiny offices. In fact I saw them thumbing through their style bibles, no doubt checking up to the second trends to make sure I wasn�t on the cutting edge of some kind of hangover chic that they�d somehow missed.

The interview went unexpectedly well, considering it was a constant battle against the urge to evacuate my digestive system by all available means simultaneously. My opening ploy was to show the woman, who for some reason had told me straight off that she�d been an air stewardess on Concorde, my film (which is anti-advertising, kind of) as a kind of knowingly post-modern nod, which I just KNOW all those mee-jaa types love, apart from the ex-supersonic-trolly-dolly, apparently, who remained unmoved by my daring outright attack on her entire industry. We moved quickly on to the matter of my writing, her conclusion being that I didn�t really have the right skills for copywriting. I did try to argue that thinking of English words to express an idea was something I could easily make an attempt at given a chance, but to no avail. My chances were disappearing as fast as the bubbles on my untouched cappuccino. She then probed me expertly about working as a freelance travel writer � something she was �thinking of doing�, as dishing out nuts at twice the speed of sound had obviously given her the perfect background. This was an unexpectedly predatory twist - seemingly she didn�t just want to deny me a job, she wanted to take away employment opportunities I already had as well. I mumbled something about �limited entry portals� (the first time I�ve used the word �portal� in conversation � I�d obviously fallen prey to some kind of jargon-based mind-meld) and skulked back to my unfashionable data and the entry thereof.

Admin chic. It�ll happen. Just you wait.

�I�m the ruby in the dust, I�m the trust in the mistrust, I�m the Trojan horse in Troy, I�m the gin in the gin soaked boy, the gin soaked boy��

On the way home, I coincidentally got caught in two separate tubes looking at two separate women because they had scars on their faces, which I find unbelievably sexy. Not �I�ve just been hacked at for 30 minutes in the face with a machete� scars, but �had a slight accident doing something daring� scars. Oh man. I was embarrassed because I was caught out, and you want to start to say something about finding minor facial disfigurement quite attractive, but you can�t put it any way that doesn�t leave you looking like a necrophiliac. If I was going to get any kind of body decoration, though, I wouldn�t get a tattoo; I�d get a small, neat, well-placed scar. But I don�t want to sleep with people recently killed in car crashes, I SWEAR.

�I�m the half truth in the lie, I�m the why not in the why, I�m the last roll of the die, I�m the old school in the tie, I�m the spirit in the sky, I�m the catcher in the rye, I�m the twinkle in her eye�I�m Geoff Goldblum in The Fly�.well who am I?�

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