Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Happy I Have a Job Day

Why don’t we have a nationwide celebration, one day a year where we celebrate having jobs? That’s right everyone who has a job sends one other person who has a job a card congratulating them on having a job. Giant displays would go up in windows two months before hand reminding people that they must buy chocolates, flowers and other themed tat to show those people who have a job just how lucky they are. Then on the big day all those with jobs would go out and have the best night of their life, enjoying a nice meal, a trip to the cinema, or even a holiday to Paris. Meanwhile those without jobs would stare forlornly at the festivities, cursing the unfairness of it all that they cannot attend. No matter how much they tried to avoid thinking about “I have a Job Day – Ha Ha Ha” (as it would be known) they wouldn’t be able to escape seeing the merchandising, advertising and general hubbub about the day.

Of course we can’t do this because this would be inhuman and insensitive. It’s just one step away from locking up the unemployed in a giant animal enclosure, forcing them to dance for us naked whilst we throw scraps of food at them and cheer as they fight each other for every morsel. Though please don’t suggest that idea to George Osbourne, I can already see Her Majesty’s Government putting in a bulk order for chicken wire as I type.

No kind and thoughtful person would want to rub their current employment status in the face of a less fortunate individual. And no right-minded society would allow a national day in which this kind of behaviour happened. Except that they do, not in the case of jobs but in the case of romance. Yes that’s right Valentine’s Day is here again. In actual fact, I hadn’t noticed, over recent weeks I’ve managed to navigate my supermarket blind so haven’t noticed the large heart shaped displays hovering above every isle like an extract from the Ladybird Book of Autopsies.

Obviously it’s still before three in the afternoon, so the postman hasn’t been and I have no way of knowing yet if I’ve received thousands of Valentine’s cards or if I have strained the Royal Mail to breaking point. For the sake of reality let’s assume I haven’t, in fact let’s assume that my letter box has been opened less today than a branch of Lloyds TSB after 12pm on a Saturday. In fact the only way I am managing to get through today is by routinely placing pictures of happy couples in my handy home office-sized shredder.

I wouldn’t really shred the nation’s sweethearts Wills and Kate would I?

Turns out I would, there goes my knighthood.

Over the years that I’ve come to accept that I will never know the love of another human, and that at death my genitalia will able to be auctioned in eBay under the description “Mint in original packaging”, that or very soon I will be getting myself a cat. But despite my apparent grumpiness on the issue, I have come to happily take my position at the bottom of the romantic food chain along with the other socially retarded individuals such as the Go Compare tenor and Justin Bieber fans. I am content in life, knowing that no matter how lonely I am, I will never have to share my dessert in a restaurant with someone who didn’t want one at the point of ordering. I’ll always be able to wrap a full double duvet around myself on cold winter nights. And the only awkward conversations about children I’ll have to have, are if I’m caught abducting a baby from the local hospital’s maternity ward.

I say I am content being single, I am content when I am allowed to wallow in my own self pity and masturbatory juices free from reminders of my own inadequacies. Valentine’s Day does not allow this, a national celebration where the nation gathers together to point, laugh and throw stones at the single people. As if the knowledge that their genetic material is being removed from the gene pool isn’t punishment enough. Rational humans, and I do realise I’m not one of those, may say, “Well it’s just a day, ignore it!”. Really try! Everyone under the sun wants to remind me that today is Valentine’s Day. Just a walk along the High Street will lead you to pass a thousand different window displays filled with giant red hearts starring down on you like the Eye of Sauron, only marginally more satanic. I appreciate restaurants, chocolate shops and perfumeries need to advertise and rely on the Valentine’s day business, but really do toy shops, chemists and estate agents need to fill their windows with hearts. I swear I passed the funeral director’s last week and they had a giant heart-shaped coffin in the window. Is it me or does that seem a bit much?

Sorry please excuse me I need to shred another happy couple…

Sorry where was I? Oh yes, even if you lock yourself in your house you’ll be constantly reminded of Valentine’s Day what with television adverts telling you all about the special Dine in For 2 offer at your local supermarket. Mind you I did take that up – mainly so I could eat both meals at home tonight and get fat. Well it’s that or cry. There’s no escape even if you turn your television off, I clearly hadn’t set my spam filter correctly as a number of Valentine’s offers managed to get e-mailed to me. Including, and I’m not making these up, a Valentine’s e-mail suggesting you buy your loved one something from eBay – I mean nothing says I love you, like second hand goods. Plus I also received this e-mail…

Yes that’s right First Hull Trains want me to book a special romantic getaway to London, this is wrong on so many levels, it’s virtually become the Empire State Building of awkwardness. Surprisingly the most difficult problem to overcome is not my singledom, but the fact that I would have to move to Hull to take advantage of this offer. I am not saying anything bad about Hull but I’d rather jump into the bath with a live three-bar electric fire under my arm than move to Hull. Apologies to anyone living in Hull. No seriously you have my condolences, still on the plus side if you want to move First Hull Trains have got some good special offers on. And if e-mailing and television advertising offers weren’t enough my weekly trip to Sainsbury’s was largely ruined by a repeated tanoy announcement beginning “Did you know it’s Valentine’s Day this week?...” – no how could I have possibly noticed what with the fact you’ve played the same bloody announcement every five minutes for the last half hour and the store has more pink bunting up, than at Elton John’s wedding? Plus of course the cashier who upon receiving payment wished me a “Happy Valentine’s Day”, which is creepy A) because the cashier actually spoke to me and B) because f**k off, you’re intervention into my life is about as welcome as those old school friends who haven’t spoken to you for the last 20 years but decide it would be really good idea to upload an old class photo to Facebook and tag you in it. Piss off.

Sorry the vein is throbbing again…

Ahhh, that’s better.

At this point some rational people will probably be suggesting that all this is due to the unwanted commercialisation of Valentine’s Day, well no, normal people are bloody annoying as well – and they have no commercial need to cause vitriolic bile to rise to my throat. Public displays of affection are never welcome within my eyeline, but especially not on or around Valentine’s Day. The escalators on the London Underground are not an appropriate place to do a quick dental inspection of your partners pre-molars using only your tongue – even if the staggered staircase corrects a rather awkward height difference that otherwise blights your happy relationship. And as for the couple in the queue in the supermarket this week, who had their tongues wedged so far down each others throats they were practically popping out of each other’s anuses. Is it really necessary to also make a noise wallpaper paste being slopped around a bucket? I nearly had to run them both through with a frozen Be Good To Yourself garlic baguette.

Oh and please don’t bring Valentine’s Day into the workplace, if a loved one sends 24 red roses to your office. When all the single people say “isn’t that lovely”, what we’re actually thinking is “Bitch” and wondering if we’d get fired for feeding the flowers into the shredder. One year, a girl genuinely arrived into my office on Valentine’s Day and started moaning at me about how awful it was she had to come into work so early, because she had missed the post and would have to wait until she got home to receive her boyfriend’s card. She moaned about this to me. Yes that’s right to me. It’s the equivalent of complaining to a person who has had both legs amputated that the shoe shop is closed. By the way if anyone is wondering what happened to the aforementioned girl, and why she stopped coming to work, you’ll find her bloodied body hidden behind the photocopier. For some reason I felt the need on that Valentine’s Day to repeatedly slam her head in the lid of the photocopier, that will also explain what the red mess on the glass plate was – just in case the police are reading this I didn’t actually do this (except in my mind).

Oh and if you even think of commenting on this blog that Valentine’s Day is just as bad for people in couples, it’s not. Otherwise logically you would dump them, to make yourself happier, and you haven’t – although if you have I would like to hear about that it would make me feel better.

See told you Valentine’s Day was anti-social, inappropriate and unjust. In fact I’ve decided it would be less awful to rename this day “I Have a Job Day”. So Happy “I Have a Job Day”, unless of course they do find that body behind the photocopier in which case I may no longer be joining in with this celebration either.

On that note it’s time for another trip to the shredder, bloody happy couples.

1 Comment:

Holly said...

Ah Matt you crack me up. Best blog yet.

"window displays filled with giant red hearts starring down on you like the Eye of Sauron..." Love it!