The Dirty Secrets of Your Trade
So, Television is a hot bed of lies, deceit and made up competitions. We can't say that we are that surprised... every job is full of this stuff. It's not like the newspapers currently kicking TV whilst it is down are all that innocent.
We'd like you to even things out a bit. Spill the beans on your own trade. Tell us the dirty secrets that the public need to know.
( , Thu 27 Sep 2007, 10:31)
So, Television is a hot bed of lies, deceit and made up competitions. We can't say that we are that surprised... every job is full of this stuff. It's not like the newspapers currently kicking TV whilst it is down are all that innocent.
We'd like you to even things out a bit. Spill the beans on your own trade. Tell us the dirty secrets that the public need to know.
( , Thu 27 Sep 2007, 10:31)
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I have been a DJ in a London Nightclub....
..for the past 2 years. What the drunken hoards of braying, chasm gobbed tossers who frequent the emporium have yet to spot is whilst they're gyrating around the dancefloor like they're on fire, the priapic men gawping at scantily clad girls hoping to push a finger in their fetid mimsys, and the girls, wearing make-up they put on with a shotgun, I am playing the same track over and over again,
just at different speeds.
They dont seem to notice, provided I'm up in the tower, boucing in time to the rhythm, with one of my headphone cans pressed up to my ear, looking like I know what I'm doing.
And I get a bloody big wadge of cash for my troubles.
I might release a "Club Anthems" album in time for Christmas, based on my club work. I wonder what colour Mercedes McLaren I'll buy?
( , Fri 28 Sep 2007, 21:39, Reply)
..for the past 2 years. What the drunken hoards of braying, chasm gobbed tossers who frequent the emporium have yet to spot is whilst they're gyrating around the dancefloor like they're on fire, the priapic men gawping at scantily clad girls hoping to push a finger in their fetid mimsys, and the girls, wearing make-up they put on with a shotgun, I am playing the same track over and over again,
just at different speeds.
They dont seem to notice, provided I'm up in the tower, boucing in time to the rhythm, with one of my headphone cans pressed up to my ear, looking like I know what I'm doing.
And I get a bloody big wadge of cash for my troubles.
I might release a "Club Anthems" album in time for Christmas, based on my club work. I wonder what colour Mercedes McLaren I'll buy?
( , Fri 28 Sep 2007, 21:39, Reply)
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