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Thursday, January 24, 2008

Brace yourself.

No really, I mean it. I refuse to go on until everyone is fully braced, adopting the crash position with your head between your legs, and a packet of peanuts between your teeth. Ok...

Like Holby City, only better.I've got the job.

Yes indeed, Porky Pig must have got his pilot's licence, because it's official: I'm going into hospital. Although I don't know exactly when. I think it's something to do with waiting lists.

Anyone who knows me well, will know that I refuse to work for any organisation which doesn't have (a) an entry in Wikipedia, and (b) comfortable beds, so I'm pleased to announce that as of 2:15pm this afternoon I've been offered a job at the Royal Sussex County Hospital, a venerable medical institution whose biggest claim to fame appears to be that they've patched up Norman Tebbit. That's Wikipedia for you.

Sadly the position of Brain Surgeon was already filled, but I was willing to take a small step down and instead go for the prestigious role of Rotational Pharmacy Assistant. I like to think of it as dizzy drug-dealing. And having battered the opposition into the ground by being the only candidate who could boast a history of working with vegetables, I successfully secured the position at interview yesterday afternoon. Of course, it helped that one of the interview panel could sing The Poddington Peas theme song, but I'm sure that wasn't the only reason they chose me.

The picture above is the new Children's Hospital, which I've wanted to visit ever since I discovered they were modelling it on Noah's Ark. I can see it from my front door, so I'm always on the look out for giraffes. And the best thing is the hospital's only a hundred yards away, so I'll be able to go to work in my slippers, carrying a mug of tea. I couldn't be more pleased (about the job, not the mug of tea).

I now have to wait for a confirmation letter from the HR department, and in the meantime I presume they'll be checking my references. Which means there are now only two people who stand between me and gainful employment: a kidney-stoned Norfolk clergyman and the mad cat-woman of Portslade.

I'm only slightly worried.