So having received the 'application pack' (you never get forms these days, only packs) on Tuesday, I dragged my Mum down to Brighton today and spent the entire afternoon grappling with numerous pages of A4 over the coffee table, and attempting to herd scores of random thoughts into something approaching an application, whilst simultaneously trying to suppress the fort, sorry, thought, that Housemen and Fort Custodians aren't really the kind of jobs I was born to do.
But I managed it. Until 8:30pm, when I went down to the Co-op and bought today's Brighton Argus...

Oh my god. I have an entire blog to demonstrate that I can write about entertainment (well, slag off celebrities anyway), a whole page of "clean, accurate and intelligent copy" (don't argue with me on that one) about film, and three plays and an album to prove a passion for the arts. And I like food and drink. It's the job I've been waiting for. And I have less than a week to apply. If only I was good at working to strict deadlines.
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