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Hard Times.

These are hard times, ladies and gentlemen. Desperate times. I was updating my C.V. the other day. Is there any more depressing chore? Your entire life, every skill, every experience, every achievement, reduced to two exquisitely formatted sides of A4. Agonising over which font to use; you need something which isn’t too fancy but reflects your personality. Calibri? Times New Roman? PAH. These are the fonts of DRONES. Palatino Linotype, Bookman Old Style, BASKERVILLE OLD FACE, something that says that there's a human being at the other end of this document - with thoughts and dreams and aspirations - that's what you need. Painstakingly proofread over and over, even though you know in your heart of hearts of hearts no one is ever going to read it. Because it's all about the punchy little blurb at the top where you define yourself by your key characteristics.

I’m flexible and self-motivated...

I’m diligent and resourceful...

I’m a hard-working individual with a genuine passion for retail / catering / competitive spear-fishing...

Just once in my life I'd like to get a job interview and say "look, I am skint, I am desperate, this is my arse, this is my elbow, just give me some money you pigtards!”

But I've got something very special on my C.V. that I think will serve me very well indeed. I'm going to share it with you in an act of altruism. Let’s be honest, you need it more than I do.

I'll just set the scene.

(A manager opens a link to C.V. He's visibly impressed, murmuring things like "beautifully formatted...excellent choice of font..." etc. He stops, stunned. He picks up the phone, and frantically punches a number)

MANAGER: Jones? Get me the boss man, chop chop. (pause) Sir? I'm sorry to disturb you but it's about this C.V. we've received from one Michelle Thomas. Yes sir...yes sir, she's more than qualified, but that's not it. She says she works well as an individual - I know that's impressive in itself, sir, but wait, there's more -she says she works well as an individual AND…. as part of a team. She's CRACKED THE CODE sir, it’s UNCANNY, how did she KNOW that was exactly what we're looking for? You're right sir, I'll resign and give her my job, she deserves it more.

We need to address the accent.

I know some of you are pondering, calculating. Some of you won’t be able to relax until you know once and for all: is she a scouser? And if so has she had a stroke? No, and no. I am from North Wales – THIS IS NOT IMPORTANT! DON’T LET IT UPSET YOU!

I only bring it up because I had an audition recently.

(- Wow she's an actress as well?

- Yeah, she’s obviously one talented bastard.

- Well, now I’m starting to feel threatened. I can’t compete with that. I’m turning against her, what can this wonderwoman have to say that’s of any relevance to my shit life?

- Wait! Hold your horses. Let’s see what she does next. Maybe she’ll tell a story of self-deprecation, something that’ll prove that really, even though she is a mega talented brain stuck in the beautiful head of a high street honey, she’s just like us shmucks.

-Ok.)

So I had an audition recently. I didn’t really know what I was up for, I was chatting with the producer who told me that:

"Laura is a Cambridge graduate...."

...the window of opportunity narrows slightly…

"...she’s a meteorologist..."

...another weak point I must admit...

"...and she's from the West Midlands."

That's it then. Buggered. I can’t do accents. As previously addressed I can’t even do my own accent.

So I do the audition and she tells me straight away "I'm sorry, your accent's a problem". And I said “fair fucks” (I didn't say "fair fucks" obviously, because I was brought up, not dragged up, but that was the general idea of my response – cheerful acceptance). And if she’d left it there, it would’ve been fine. She didn’t leave it there though did she? No. She explained:

"After all, it’s set in the 1930s".

To which I responded: “Yes of course. How perceptive of you. It’s so obvious now. As we all know there were no Welsh people in the 1930s. No, I remember now, I saw it in a documentary; it wasn’t until the 40s that a few rogue English people started acting a bit weird, speaking exclusively in consonants, making copious amounts of cheese on toast, yes! And then finally King George said ENOUGH! I’M SICK OF THEIR BEAUTIFUL VOICES SINGING ALL OVER ME! I’M SICK OF THEM HOGGING ALL THE DELICIOUS LEEKS! I’M SICK OF HEARING CATATONIA’S INTERNATIONAL VELVET ON REPEAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS ONE OF THE FINEST ALBUMS OF THE 90S! I’M SICK OF THEM NEVER CLEANING THE GRILL AFTER MAKING THE CHEESE ON TOAST! JUST ROUND THEM UP AND PUT THEM OVER THERE. OVER THERE! THINK ABOUT IT! THINK ABOUT YOUR BEHAVIOUR! WALES – ENGLAND’S NAUGHTY CORNER!

So that's why I'm addressing the accent and that's why I didn’t get that job.