Monday, November 08, 2004  

by rights you should be bludgeoned in your bed.

Have you ever rigged a raffle ?

Twenty years ago I worked in a really shitty factory making rubber gloves, the best part of the job was the crack, that and the fact they let us drink alcohol while we worked. Health and safety wasn’t their strong point, just as well really because more than half the employees needed a wee dram just to get out of bed of a morning. As you can well imagine, the practical jokes were relentless and wicked, and if you didn’t have a sense of humour you didn’t survive. Needless to say the staff turnover was fucking huge, every September a fresh band of hopefuls would turn up for their two week training. They were then separated onto the three shifts, and this particular year we got a right cunt. He had been everywhere, done everything and seen more than all of us put together. If you were telling a story he would but in with his bigger and better one. We hated him, and would have our revenge.

Christmas drew near and a plan formed, we would have a raffle for a Turkey so large you would think its mother had been rogered by an omnibus. He fell for it, buying several tickets. Everyone else had mock tickets. A box was found in a skip, it was huge. It was filled with all manner of shite and it weighed a fucking ton. To make it a little more authentic someone scrawled “Turkey” on the side of the box in black marker. Looking back, I can’t believe that he thought it was a Turkey, the box must have been two and half foot square and weighed in at a good twenty kilos. Anyway, the day came, and his ticket was pulled from the hat. Not surprising really, there was only one fucking ticket in there. He was so chuffed, he had to get a taxi home 'cos he didn’t drive. So he took the enormous bird home to his mum (I bet that was a fucking first) waving at us from the back seat of his taxi.

We never saw him again.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Telling this story has reminded me of an old bloke that used to work on our shift, a proper old-timer, years of experience and the stories to go with it. His wife used to make him loads of food to take to work, thing is he didn’t have much of an appetite. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t want all the lovely food she made for him, he used to give it to the lads.

Can you tell I’m missing the crack, is it that obvious ? Fuck, I need a job.

| posted by Simon | 9:57 pm | 0 comments
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