i wanted to work in the local theatre....
But I had submitted my form at the last minute - so i got the scraping out of the bottom of the barrel...

I was told to go to the local Mental ..er..Psychiatric hospital..where I would be working in the garden.

So I turned up the first day (cycled across town) in jeans, shirt and heavy work boots, and put in the poly tunnel weeding the dailias or some shit...An hour later, the boss cam over and said " Er, you b'ain't supposed to be in yere, you'm be for the rehab waaard" (did I mention it was the west country?)
So Off I troop to the rehab ward, which is a nice place where people who are deemed not quite as mental as some, as put so they can earn £1 an hour packing chalk into boxes, or scooping gelatinous slime into pots for kids (like Kids don;t generate enough on their own) .
It was hell..two old geezers started scrapping over who gets to use the mahcine to put the lids on....one bloke tried to sell me his car "Its okay, I'm just 15 mate", "Its a sweet runner, mot, the lot" "Thast great, but I am 15" "4 new tyres..." etc
And the amount of times I was asked, "What aer you in here for, have you bad thoughts like me" *rolls eyes in head like drunken Fish*

Theres more, but all you need to know is that I spent a week in a room with mentallists...proper ones...shit-your-pants scarey ones..nice.
(Rockster77, Mon 14 May 2007, 11:14, Reply)