The Week Link.

Thinking it prudent, after four weeks of guzzling proper beer instead of that pissy Fosters, to calm things down for my last week off, you can imagine my surprise upon opening a letter from the Australian Reconnaissance Service Elite, a week ago, informing me that they'd probably be able to manage without my expertise, henceforth.

Talk about having your World turned the right way up!
Not a pleasant feeling, being forced out of the A.R.S.E.

As a consequence, I now find myself without a job and the whole of last week missing in some hazy blur, though I've no doubt that there'll be a few helpful souls filling in my gaps for me, over the coming week. I'll most likely be bumping into most of them at the job centre, too!

Ah well, I could always see if I can get my old job back at the abattoir. The owner there was often complimenting me on the way I took care of his meat.