it’s my job to stand at the foot of rainbows so that people can see where it meets the earth and finally stops. people are always disappointed when they finally find the end of the rainbow to discover that it’s only me stood there, most of them expect a leprechaun and all of them ask for a pot of gold which I don’t have. when I find out who started that rumour, I’ll have them strung up, I swear it, it’s a real bane having to explain the same thing day in day out, people always think you’re trying to pull a fast one on them. just for the record, it’s a myth, people, there is no gold. I don’t know why I bother, I’ll still get asked again tomorrow.

rainbow locating is hard labour, there’s no denying it, the work involves a lot of travel, is quite infrequent and you have to remain pretty flexible if you expect to get promotion. plus, the wages aren’t good, it doesn’t exactly mediate an upscale lifestyle. there’s a lot of science to learn too, people always want to know how a rainbow is created just so they can break the ice, and you’d look pretty daft just shrugging your shoulders, but I’ve got gcse physics under my belt so that part’s a breeze. and you do need to know all about Noah and the bible too, but people don’t ask so much about that these days, so I wouldn’t break your back over it, the basics will do fine.

oh, and one last thing, you have to get used to people saying, aren’t you lucky to get to sit under a rainbow all day and enjoy the view. I tell you, after a while, the last thing you want to see is another bloody arc of refracted light, it’s only an optical illusion when all said and done. but then it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, so you can’t complain, it’s a small price to pay. and you do get to meet a lot of poets.

my fundamental role viz a the mechanism responsible for the cessation of life demands a certain discipline that most mortals can only dream of achieving, they’d never be able to distance themselves as I do. it’s no use feeling sorry for someone when you’re snatching the very life from their ribcage, you have to remain objective and focused, it’s very demanding and there’s no room for emotional baggage, you soon eradicate pity and sympathy from your arsenal.

the bad press that comes with the position goes without saying, but that you get used to and in the end it becomes one of the perks of the job, trying to live up to your reputation. some people will love you whatever you do, though you do have to keep an eye out for the fanatics. it’s also pretty solitary work, you have to enjoy your own company, and you never really get over the dissatisfaction of not knowing how the process as a whole works. once I’ve snuffed them out the conveyor belt carries on without me and I don’t get to see what happens to them which is a shame. you hear rumours, but nothing concrete.

just lately, the fun does seem to have gone out of my work actually, people don’t have the fear that they had long ago and my place in their lives has lost some of its meaning. once upon a time it was nothing but the terror of my arrival in people’s minds all day, from morning until night, but nowadays I’m lucky to get a passing post-coital thought even. it undermines one’s confidence somewhat I can tell you, people are getting far too comfortable with their mortality. to this end, I have recently had to purchase a pair of hobnailed boots so that my arrival will be announced to people well in advance. how I miss the tortured visage, racked with remorse, there just aren’t enough last-minute lamentations.

well, the boss is a real bastard for starters, I have to be there at my desk at the crack of dawn just to answer his phone and tell people he’s at a meeting when really he hasn’t rolled in yet, and if that wasn’t enough he goes home before I do and leaves a huge pile of typing for me to be getting on with in his absence. really I should complain about him, but he does sometimes bring me back a doughnut from the canteen and some of his lot wouldn’t even think of doing that, it could be worse.

most of the people I work with are ok, but you have to watch your back, you don’t want to go upsetting the wrong people, they’ll grass you up as soon as look at you some of them, so they will. the money’s not great, but it’s better than some of the jobs I’ve had, and you do get to sit down most of the day, other than when his lordship has you running errands for him. occasionally you do get a bit of a slap on the bum or people rubbing against you when there’s no need but it goes with the territory if you ask me, you just have to know how to stand up for yourself. I even enjoy it these days. and the phone, you can use that as well without getting a rollicking, that saves me a bit. the first two weeks are the worst to be honest, you get all the office pranks played on you then, but once that initiation’s over it’s plain sailing all the way.

there is always the risk of getting rsi, but I’ve been lucky so far, like sandra said I’d have more chance of getting rsI of the tongue than the wrist, but you do have to be careful that you don’t go overdoing it all the same, you don’t get sick pay here. and there’s always the trade off that you’ll probably not get to do all those things you always wanted to when you were younger, but that’s the way it goes isn’t it, you have to pay the piper when he comes to town to play, no one’s going to do it for you.

there are essentially only two different ways to get in the way of pedestrians, you can either cut across them at the last minute as they make a late spurt, or slow down as soon as you know that they’re in a hurry and trying to get past. there are other methods such as stretching your arms out or feigning a swoon that they teach you, but they aren’t as reliable as they once were, people haven’t the manners these days or the samaritan instinct and you can end up with egg on your face, having to just get up and brush yourself down.

blocking people isn’t particularly rewarding after the first two months or so, by then you’ve pretty much mastered the art, and it does involve a lot of legwork, so you do have to keep quite fit. also, the blockee can sometimes get rather irate if they realise that you’re getting in their way intentionally, I’ve been threatened with violence before, on more than one occasion, you have to develop a really convincing innocent expression to survive. I remember this one time, I was trying to block a woman and she was trying to block me back, it was a joke, it really was. halfway down the street I realised that she was probably a blocker as well, I think the same thought must have hit her at around the same time, we had a real laugh about it afterwards. then there’s the fact that you’re under surveillance whilst you’re on the job and the council keeps count of how many walkers you’ve slowed down. it’s paid piecemeal, so unless you get your quota in the wife won’t be happy when you get back home.

to be honest, it’s not a job that I’m hoping to make a career of, but it was either do this or lose my benefits. I personally don’t see the point, so you do wonder if you’ve done a real days work sometimes, but someone up there must think I’m doing a good job, they’d have sacked me by now otherwise, so there has to be some rhyme and reason to it. ours is not to question why, ours is just to…well, you know.

you know what I’d give to change jobs? anything. I’m not kidding either, my life stinks. those people who say that a man is what he does haven’t got a clue, if you ask me every man is the very opposite of what he does for a living the rest of the time, who wants to work on their day off? not me, I don’t even want to work when I’m supposed to.

it was my dad’s job before me, and the rule is that the eldest son takes the position upon his father’s death, there’s no way out, if it’s on you you’d better take it. my dad hated it and his dad before him too, it makes a man surly and out of balance with the rest of the world, a pariah even. all my brothers laughed at dad’s funeral, down to you bro, they said, you’re the laughing man now. I tell you this for nothing, I aren’t ever having any kids, I’m the end of the line on this one, let one of my other brothers tell their son the bad news, let’s see them laugh at my funeral then.

the uniform is a joke for starters, a lycra, canary yellow jump suit, I mean, I’m not exactly a slim man, so it’s less than flattering even in bad light. but most of all, I just object to the notion that people think they have an inherent right to happiness. what did they ever do to deserve this? I wonder to myself when I’m out and about pulling faces at kids and tickling adults.

where’s my laughing man I ask my brothers, who’s cheering me up? shut up, they say, and do that fat man dance you do. you walk around all day with a fixed grin for so long your face hurts. and no one ever says thank you either, people are bloody ungrateful when they’re happy.

sometimes when I meet the crying man on my tea breaks, who’s supposed to be my mortal enemy by the way but we’ve reached an understanding, we swap roles for a bit and make each other laugh and cry. he suggested we walk around together in future, negate each other, it seems like a plan.

so far, I’ve only been in the job for a few days, it wasn’t one that I applied or trained for, but my brother was caught reciprocating a smile from princess Topilla a month ago, and for such a treasonous act my whole family was taken on as official testers of king Jusrad’s food. if there’s one thing he can not abide it is men who have no right going gooey over his daughter who is his possession alone. my brother knew that, the fault lies squarely at his door. the king has many enemies, and most of them are cooks with backgrounds in toxicology, he has to be very careful. consequently, there is not really the opportunity to make a long-term stab at this kind of work, my career prospects are admittedly rather limited. it is no use tending my resignation, all of the rest of my family have served their stint already and have been buried, I am the last, so although I hoped to live a long and happy life, I expect to retch my last at any moment.

princess Topilla has been most apologetic and even offered to help concoct a special poison she alone knows the ingredients of, one which only strikes down royalty, as recompense for my family’s deaths, but I have dutifully declined as a loyal servant of his most glorious majesty. she seemed very disappointed and held me to her buxom imploringly. such an unpopular king as would be murdered by his own daughter needs all the support he can get. I do wish he’d pay me in something other than bottle tops, but I have found a place that will accept it as legal tender now, so that’s just a minor gripe really. and I do get the odd thrashing, from time to time.

obviously, the main downside of my job is that death can be heard marching around outside the palace doors every mealtime, but on the positive side, I have never eaten and lived so well until now. my only real complaint is the king’s desire to taste of hemlock pie, a whim that comes upon him almost weekly. to date he has not yet managed to sample the delights of this meal, as it appears to be the most popular dish with which the cooks attempt to commit the most heinous act of regicide.

1. human beings and the trivialities their emotions bring to bear

2. the persistent ambitions of beelzebub

3. infinity and what to do with it

4. anger management

5. the minutiae of my next project.