You look like you’re wondering about penguins. I was wondering about penguins as well, until I started wondering about whether you were wondering about penguins. Do you think this means we’re related? Me too! We should definitely catch up on all the things we missed out on since being separated at birth. I’m not sure how I feel about taking baths together, so we should probably start with showers, or I can leave my water in the bath for you to use when I’m finished. I see that you have exactly the same number of nostrils that I do. Can you play the trombone? Me neither! That reminds me – do we have a sofa? I would offer to bring my beanbag but I had to empty it out so that I could hide in it more easily, so now it’s just a bag. You can hide in it if you like.
My Dear Prospective Employers
It’s your lucky day! You’re so lucky I almost wish I was you, except that the only reason you’re so lucky is because I’m out here looking for a job. Shush now, don’t get so worked up or you’ll be sick.
I’ve forsaken the traditional covering letter because I am much better at lying in person, so I’ll save that for the interview. Instead, I’ve decided that you’ll be much better off with a recipe for oat brownies.
Step one: check that you want to eat oat brownies. People often overlook this step and are stuck with millions of oat brownies and nowhere to put them, even after they’ve got rid of all their furniture.
Acquire a box, bag or bladder of oats. Decant them into a bowl and dispose of the packaging as per local arrangements. Allow to stand.
Add a chocolate flavoured substance of your preference. If you do not have a chocolate flavoured substance, you can use chocolate.
Add milk in a sprightly fashion, as though you were once a billionaire jockey with a huge house and a trophy wife, but you abandoned it all to live in a cave and pour milk on oats, because that’s how much you like pouring milk on oats. You know – sprightly.
Pop to the loo if necessary. If unnecessary, don’t pop anywhere. Honestly, I really think you ought to be figuring these things out for yourself by now.
Step seven: Stir the mixture until it looks about right or until you need to stop because there’s penguins on the television.
This next bit’s important, so I’ll write slowly:
Plonk the stuff on a thing and whack it in the oven
Step D: Oven it, with all like fire and that
Bring it out of the oven wearing gloves or, if preferred, a hat
Remark on the fact that this really isn’t a brownie but more of a big glob of burnt shit
Chop it into bits with a chopper
Throw it away
Like on Facenook if you care about orphans with no legs
Repeat step twelve until someone calls the police
I can start immediately but will be on leave until next week because this week I’m busy cleaning oats out of my ear. Please make sure my desk is in a shaded corner, out of direct sunlight and with adequate drainage.