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Dear Aunty Raine,

I am a young man of 20 and have been unemployed for some time.  I have had a few jobs but have been sacked from them all. My first job, a couple of years back, was in a shop and I got fired after holding the door open for a shoplifter who, it turned out, was leaving with 14 tins of salmon in the hood of her coat. I did hear a clanking sound as she went past but thought I’d suddenly developed Tinnitus. Then I went to work in a factory which manufactured fire extinguishers. You can imagine how shocked the owners were when I accidentally set the building on fire. It went up like a bomb. I tried pointing out that the fact people could see the flames from 16 miles away didn’t say much for the quality of their products, but they didn’t react well and I was once again on the dole.

Afterwards I accepted a post on the butchery counter of our local supermarket. Yes, in hindsight, I should have mentioned at the interview that I was a vegan, but I’d actually gone to apply for a position in the clothing department. I was too late, however, and it was filled by the time I got there. They took me completely by surprise with their meat and I just went along with it.

I have to say that they didn’t have much understanding. I’d only been in tears for ten minutes after they put a big chop in my hand, before I was given my marching orders again.

I went to another supermarket from there to collect trolleys from the car park. That actually went well for a week, until I developed a crush on the girl from the cigarette counter. She was nationally famous, having appeared on a well-known TV show where she accused her mother of sleeping with her boyfriend. Their relationship was on the mend, so I was told, after the girl’s mother bit the host. Anyway, in a bid to impress this girl, I ran at full belt with a trolley and jumped up on the handle to pose in a manly fashion as I went flying past the store window. It didn’t end well, but as I pointed out to the store manager, he should have been grateful that I crashed into the Vauxhall Corsa in the car park and not the top of the range Jag which was parked next to it.

The budding romance with the girl off the cigarette counter was a washout too. I heard not long afterwards that she was engaged to her ex-boyfriend’s Dad.

I have now had a re-think about my career. I don’t want to rush into a job that isn’t a good fit for me again. I have thought long and hard and have decided to become a spy as I’ve seen a few James Bond films and he always seems to wear a lot of nice suits and has plenty of girlfriends.  I don’t know where to apply to be a spy. I’ve seen no openings at the job centre. I wondered if you can point me in the right direction? Also do you have to supply your own pen which turns into a machine gun? I’m fairly certain that DFS (or is it JCB?) make the gadgets for their spies.

Yours, hoping for a girlfriend with a dagger strapped to her thigh,  Desmond, Salford.

Aunty Raine says:

Dear strapped thighs,

The government dept who run spies aren’t DFS/JCB, they are called MDF. I’m pretty sure this is right. Hang on I’ll ask my Shanice Denise.

I’m back! She thinks it’s called E45. She’s very on the ball with these things so I’ll go with what she says.

Well, I admire you for aiming high, but you have to be realistic about this: If you can’t control a shopping trolley, how will you get on with a wristwatch that turns into a helicopter? And if you can’t bear to cut up an already dead pork chop, how will you kill an alive villain with braces on his teeth? If it’s sharp suits and girls you want then the other quick way to both is to become a pimp. I wouldn’t recommend this however as it is illegal and your Nan might be embarrassed about it when the other pensioners at her bingo club ask her what you do for a living.

My immediate thought as to what career path you should follow is that you’d make a very natural clown, so I advise you joining a local circus at the earliest opportunity. Hopefully you will meet a female clown and you can have a happy future with her. I’d think you’d get a lot of marital frustrations out of the way by tipping water all over each other every night.

Hope that helps! Aunty Raine.

Remember! All the girls love a man in a size 19 shoe!

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