#101: You Might Think I’m Delirious…
“I bet you fucking love your job, don’t you arsehole?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question; at least I didn’t take it that way. After the police had escorted the waste of valuable oxygen into the back of a paddy wagon I thought about what was posed. Do I love my job? To answer that I needed to go back and review what I wanted to be in life, what I wanted to do with my life and that would lead me to an accurate answer. I’ve never really known what I wanted to be. If you asked me at the age of about 5, when I was first asked, I’d have probably replied that I wanted to be a firetruck. Not a fireman, but the vehicle itself. I grew out of that about the same time as Marc Bolan got into a mini and met a tree. Eventually I graduated to wanting to be a fireman but I developed an entirely rational fear of being burnt to death after seeing the Poseidon Adventure and Bambi. So you can blame Irwin Allen and Walt Disney for beating that one out of me. I’m sure I’m not the only person over the age of ...