Alternative title: My name is Ruebi…and I am Dole Scum…


About a month ago I resigned from my job, some people have called me brave, others have called me stupid, a handful have told me how I’m going to plummet into the dark, mangy, monotonous and rather grim existance as a dole-dosser. Now, having been in the unfortunate situation of being on job-seekers benefits before I can quite honestly say that life is not all beer farts, jogging pants, food banks and magic unicorns, oh no, your grasp on sanity can be slowly clawed from your bitten and broken nails by the repeated wonders of daytime TV and the inability to differentiate between the days.

“Today feels like a Thursday” you’ll think, so will treat the day as a Thursday…even though the day is actually a Tuesday, and most likely bin day. Still, a day beginning with a T is near enough, right?

Anyway, the reason I resigned my post (yes resigned, thus not making me eligible for Job-Seekers Allowance yet) was not due to some misguided half-wit notion that I could live on 3p Aldi baked beans and the occasional fist fight with the local numpty over the last bottle of semi-skimmed at the shop. No, I resigned my post for various reasons…but the main one being that my job was proving to be unbearable.

I’m now spending my days trawling through job sites (of which there are many, all showing the same rubbish), dealing with inept recruiters (who I’m sure are all as puddled as a stoned beaver at Woodstock), jumping through various hoops to convince said recruiters that I can do the job I’ve applied to (read as: reading my CV to them over the phone because the lazy turd-bags can’t be bothered to read it…or they just can’t read), catching up with Richard Herring’s latest worldly insights (’nuff said), cooking (because apparantly a cheese square does not constitute a decent meal) and trying to find ways to avoid the garbage of the gogglebox (the usual daytime programmes not the show, because those drunk posh folks are awesome).

Which is proving rather difficult…is it any wonder there are so many issues with society when you have an excellent selection of insightful shows such as ‘Real Housewives of Beverley Hills/New York/Goodness-knows-where’, ‘Emmerfail‘ (isn’t one showing in the evening enough? Why are there 4-6 helpings of this turd fest on during the day?!), ‘Cheaters‘, ‘Storage Wars‘, etc etc etc. I am positive that it has been designed this way to give those of us not working a shove towards the jobs pages…because seriously, who would happily watch this all day everyday and not fear for their brain cells?

That said, ‘Doctor Who‘ is constantly showing on the Horror channel (major positive)…probably the scariest thing on there given the cack they try and flog as movies. I think they gave up after ‘The Evil Dead‘ (original), ‘Poltergeist‘, ‘Nightmare on Elm Street‘ and the like. Can’t really improve on mushy pea’s as melting zombie flesh can you?

So instead of losing the remainder of my marbles watching the likes of ‘Jeremy (“it’s my show!”) Kyle‘ or ‘Loose (so many connotations) Women‘, I have taken to bombarding my senses with the rather delightful world of ‘Inside No 9‘. Need I give reasons for this?

Ok…two very good reasons right here:

Inside No 9

Image of the fabulous Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith courtesy of British Comedy Guide

If you like creepy tales with a dash of comedy and a twist at the end then this is the show for you…now drop that damned remote before the ‘Pawn Stars‘ marathon begins! If however, this isn’t your cup of tea (or perhaps more likely, you’ve been brainwashed by the shower-shy puddings having lie detectors conducted) then there is always a nice jaunt to the Job Centre for an argument with a brick wall.

R x