It’s best to keep busy

‘Nobody likes their job, but everyone has to have one.’
But you said I was going to be an artist.
A commercial artist, whatever that is.

Aye, but that’s different now.

You need to be earning now.

No time for learning now.

Come on now, time’s burning.

Then there’s an interview at the supermarket.
A name badge, imagine that.

I didn’t get it. Imagine that.

I did get it, a few months later, when whoever had got it in the first place hadn’t worked out.

I don’t remember hating it,
And I certainly enjoyed the money.
Beer, snooker, tabs.
Beer, a holiday, lads.

Coming of age, they called it. Getting laid.

Didn’t.

I met a girl and we talked and talked and walked and walked. Kissed, held hands.

In Malia? Held hands?

The whole second week. We were smitten.
My dad called it cunt-struck, only I’d never seen one.
My best friend handed out wisdom on women:
‘Put her against the wall and rip her knickers off. They love it.’

Nah.

I remember sadness when I got back home.
And working in that supermarket.
Here’s a tenner,
Get yourself down the pub.
Try not to think about it,
Get yourself down the pub.
It’s best to keep busy, isn’t it.

Nobody likes their job, but everyone has to have one.