Giant Incisive Brain Attack

By following instructions and also doing things I wasn't instructed to do but which needed doing I filled the kitchen with astonishment. The guy who'd had the job before me was so bad at it he'd broken his leg. I was invited to spend eternity in the corner with my sleeves rolled up. My fellow scrubbers would be Harry and Giuseppe. Harry walks very slowly and makes large metal noises by hurling trays into the sink. Giuseppe talks very quickly in twitching crippled English about how mad Harry is but how he's also a good man but he's mad but he's a good man yes a good man but mad. These are the only comprehensible words that come out of his mouth although he's always talking. Everybody else has given up trying to understand him or to help him make himself understood. I didn't go back.

Eaten Anyway

I asked a window to give me some work. It said there were very many repetitive tasks available and asked what kind of thing was I looking for. I said I was looking to exchange my time and basic limb-manipulation skills for cash I can spend on things I won't remember.
Yes, it said, I have some work for you, tonight, in the Stuff Parade, you have to stand at the end of a tunnel while bits of stuff come at you and you decide whether that stuff is good stuff or bad stuff. Bad stuff goes to the left where the electric boffins furrow their brows at it until its purpose emerges. Good stuff meanwhile gets put in a shipping container which is then loaded onto a massive cackling boat and never heard from again.

The Old Sense

That whiskey, there's a woman's face advertising it too. She's got something about love written on her in gold and her photo is black and white so you know she's from the past. I don't know who she is and neither does the internet. The adverts mainly appear in what used to be the chasm of despair but is now quite a nice road. Its buildings were designed by war-drunk architects who thought that the primary effect of all new structures should be to induce a whitewater flood of hopelessness in anyone who lived in, glimpsed, walked past or smelled them. So if they were bombed into chunky dust like their predecessors then nobody would really mind. Then in the nineties the IRA exploded the Manchester Arndale Centre but accidentally got the Corn Exchange too and all these architects got together and said sorry to Mo Mowlam and asked her to do something and she did and that's why things are better today. They didn't bomb this road in Bristol but it was recently niced up by loads of people who can paint massive things and some people who put fabric round trees so it's alright now and people take pictures of it and can even be seen openly enjoying themselves.