A Comedy CV I wrote for a Friend

Curriculum Vitae

Laura Cunningham

15 The Gallops

Skipton

Bd23 1AW

07871 X34 XXX

01756 XXXX34

About Me:

I am a person that generally doesn’t strive too hard to achieve anything much. Having said that I always try to do things to the best of my ability, this isn’t saying much as I have all the ability of a special needs badger if I’m honest. I would like to think that one day I could become a ‘career girl’ but a couple of bags of M-Cat soon have me back on the straight and narrow. I am honest, reliable and very trustworthy, other than the Pound land shoplifting charge, but that’s a story for another time. I have excellent customer services skills and if you’re ever short of class A’s then I’m your girl if you know what I mean? My admin skills are average at best and the least said about my knowledge of computers the better. I do have a webcam though which has turned out to be quite a profitable little tool, just Google poundmypu55y for details 😉

I have an excellent telephone manner, in all honesty after a few lines of coke you have all on getting me off the fucking thing. I am able to talk to customers at all levels and make myself available to them at all times. I have even answered the phone to one of them whilst sitting on the loo taking a shit. I am a great team player and love a good gossip (especially if there is a disabled on the floor, they are always good for a laugh) I am a bit of a fag hag as well, the gays hang round me like flies around shit although I am strictly a cock girl to be fair, oh yes, I’m always on the lookout for some nice office cock especially the married cock, there’s a lovely air of desperation about them. I am also able to work on my own initiative, indeed I have spent many a happy hour on my own in the stationary cupboard flicking my bean.

Working towards targets isn’t something I would be particularly interested in, bit too much like hard work. As long as there is some money for coke, weed, special brew and a couple of tins of beans for the kids at the end of the week I’m a happy girl. My personal goals don’t amount to much, I would love to work at Pound land one day and maybe work my way up to senior shelf stacker given a couple of years. That’s just a pipe dream at the moment following my conviction, which was unfair by the way, I have never suffered with thrush, so what that tube of Canneston was doing in my pocket I will never know. I am a good listener and always take time to understand other people’s point of view. I also feel I have quite an empathetic approach to people and their problems. However, if I feel they are talking bollocks I will quite happily tell them to shut the fuck up and do one, whinging fuckers. I am always on hand to give colleagues advice and do it in an honest and professional manner and if the cunts can’t handle it well tough shit baby.

Schools Attended and Results:

HMP Eastwood Park, Young Offenders Wing 1999 – 2004

Results Achieved: Lesbianism (A), Hiding things up my arse (B), Bullshitting (A+), English (A), Maths (F), Science (E), Making Shivs (A)

Previous Employment History:

 

2004 – Johnson & Johnson Canteen – Cooking, left after complaints about pubic hair in the bacon sandwiches were attributed to me following DNA analysis

2005 – Powergen – Customer Service & Sales Advisor. Duties included ripping old people off, cutting people off if their problem seemed a little bit more complex than asking what their bill was. I did hone my lying skills so they were equal to those of a politician. Left as couldn’t be arsed walking the 300yds to work in the winter.

2006 – Ultimate Office Solutions – Customer Service – Fucking phone monkey, left here to follow my dream of faraway travel …….to Bingley

2007 – Damart – Customer Service & Sales Advisor – Phone Monkey again, left as was sick to death of talking to old cunts wittering on about how fucking cold they were.

2008 – 2010 – Stay at home mum – I had two children, don’t ask, can’t even remember the shags I was so drug addled. Social Services finally handed them back to me this year, totally ruining my social life may I add. Although, on the plus side Benefits are the absolute dogs bollocks, I want more kids ASAP…..they are a fucking goldmine!

2011 – Black Bull Pub – Part time bar work, flirted with customers and occasionally gave guys blow jobs in the smoking area. Loved this job and improved my Karaoke skills massively. I had to leave in rather a hurry when the Landlady caught her husband fisting me on the pool table after hours.

2011 – 2012 – Damart (Again) – Customer Sales & Sales advisor. I was a fucking phone monkey again. I left due to my sons ‘illness’ well that’s what I told them anyway and the campaign in the Keighley News has brought in a pretty penny, hopefully no one ever finds out we didn’t use the money for a Disney Land trip….ever.

Interests and Hobbies:

 

Being a single mother you don’t get much free time, so I try to include my children in all of it, the drinking, drug taking etc. I would love to take them out for the day to Bingley but this would involve me not taking drugs, drinking and shagging obviously, so I have tried to avoid doing it, like the fucking plague if I’m honest lol. I like to study books on business management on an evening whilst ‘camming’. Well, I say study, I mean cut lines of coke on the cover, this is something I really enjoy doing, a quick toot, a can of Special Brew and maybe a bit of married cock to suck on is my idea of perfect ‘me’ time.

I am available for employment straight away, although I will need Wednesday mornings off as this is signing on day.

Another Dating Profile for another friend….

I’m seriously looking for a bit of a crazy woman, the one who can make me laugh very hard till I feel a little bit of wee come out.

However, if you class yourself as crazy because you used to strangle or beat your ex up, it’s important that you tell me. That would make you a crazy person, and I’m not into that whole type of Crazy. If you live with more than 12 cats and dress them up in clothing, give them human names like Mr. Whiskers or Lady Priscilla Bentley the third and have make believe tea parties with them…forget it again I’m not into that type of crazy either. I am also not interested in helping anyone with DIY or building a fence, just putting it out there.

Looks wise I’m not all that to be honest, I was cast to play the Hunchback in my school play, and we weren’t even doing The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was The Nativity. They added a hunchback just for me.

Also ladies, let’s get this straight, any woman who describes themselves as a ‘single pringle’ makes it pretty obvious why that is the case and if I wanted somebody friendly and loving with a zest for life that enjoys walks in the park, I’d just buy a dog.

Interesting Fact about me…I once ate at KFC and it gave me the inspiration to write a song called Lampshade Love

All the above is utter tosh but thought I would try and be a bit different, unfortunately some people have taken it literally ….It’s a bit of fun honest !

My Complaint letter to Pure Gym….

Dear Mr (or Mrs or Ms) Pure Gym

I am writing to complain about your current flyer campaign in Leeds. It’s not the flyers as such that upset me, it’s the fact that I feel I am being unfairly targeted by your young, fresh faced,  athletic ‘PR’ people. As soon as they spot me waddling across the road, rosy cheeked and puffing a bit, they come racing across to me bouncing with energy and shouting “Free day at the gym? Free day at the gym?” My self-confidence is shattered enough already without these harbingers of health stalking my every step first thing in a morning.

Once I get to my office, I ferret myself away to the bathroom and take a good hard look at myself in the mirror, sometimes cupping my moobs and crying fat man tears. Ok, I know I have let myself go a bit and I sweat much more than I used to, especially in the crack of my bottom. Maybe I am not seeing as much lady action as I was a few years ago, but I am trying. I have cut down, I only have breakfast, elevenses, brunch, mid-morning snack, lunch, mid-afternoon snack, late afternoon snack, dinner, supper and midnight snack. I have totally cut out my pre-breakfast breakfast and post-dinner snack.

So as you can imagine having those young people chasing me around City Square forcing me to consider a day at the gym is starting to affect my waning self-confidence. I feel I am already on the verge of an eating dis-order and this could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and I may turn anorexic any day. I would appreciate it in the future if you could get your guys to target only people that already look like they go to the gym as it is embarrassing for the rest of us ‘normals.’ Anyway I have to go now as I need to pay for my 2 double sausage and egg McMuffin meals, fries and McFlurry, all this talking about the gym has given me an appetite.

Kind Regards

Secret Eater

My Complaint letter to Network Rail…..

Dear Sirs

I would like to heartily congratulate you for the world class incompetence I witnessed this morning at Leeds Train Station. Not only was I hung over but I was also in post-traumatic stress after suffering the misfortune of a horrendous table tennis accident the night before.

May I say how considerate it is of you to enable your passengers to admire the soul destroying interior of your station. An architectural eyesore that is so depressing, so dark and uninspiring that you can almost feel the misery emanating from its walls. Sucking the joy from your pores, like a tired old prostitute on her last customer after a particularly long and unrewarding night.

Anyway I digress, as much as I would love to chew the fat regarding the absolute dullness of the characterless wart sitting on the arse of a hideously disfigured toad you call a station and maybe even discuss the unsociable shift patterns of ladies of the night, but unfortunately as interesting as these discussions may be, I feel they would distract me from the main reason for my complaint.

I have to ask the question. Which mentally incompetent half-wit has ordained that all the ticket gates are to be closed at the busiest time of the day? It has riled me so much I am compelled to ask the question again….Which moronic, pea brained, fascist has decided that the traffic management system best suited to help dissipate the crowds of sleep weary commuters is to close all the ticket gates, instead of leaving two manned ones so that people that have lined the pockets of the shareholders of network rail by purchasing season tickets etc. can pass through unfettered. What a fantastic start to the day it was being brought to a staggering halt at the ticket barriers whilst some poor overrun gate assistant had to scurry between them like a female contestant on the classic 70’s game show It’s a Knockout, desperately trying to avoid the unwanted advances of Stuart Hall.

Other than being incredibly stupid, I am sure that it contravened at least 10 health & safety rules. More disturbingly the gentleman stood behind me was that close I could feel his breath on my neck and I am hoping that it was his brolly that was poking into my bottom as we were crushed together like a porn stars surgically enhanced breasts in a very small bra. (I have been described as classically handsome, and probably appeal to both sexes so there may be a chance it was his penis)

I would appreciate a reply and an apology for what may possibly have been a serious sexual assault upon my person

Kind Regards

Wrote this Dating Profile for a friend….

Hello, I am re-advertising due to lack of interest, although I did have 2 interesting if rather dark conversations with murderinthedark69 from Whitby and Daddyissues41 from Scunthorpe. I have since blocked both these ladies and gone into the witness protection programme.

Anyway I digress, it would be great to hear from you if…..

A – you don’t own a horse (it’s not a deal breaker if you do, but everyone on here seems to have one and having only ever ridden one once and fallen off I can’t see myself getting on one again let alone shovelling it’s poo into a wheel barrow)

B – You don’t mention anywhere the need to go on long country walks on the moors / fell running or any other sort of countryside pursuit that could risk me missing football / cricket or babe station (the babe station bit is a joke by the way…..I mean what would I be doing on the moors at midnight?)

C – You insist I go to the pub to watch football, be advised I will do this with the minimum of fuss.

D – You do not mention the word soul mate or the one at all. Let’s be honest this is a dating site if you’re going to sit behind your computer wondering if the BigBilloneleg from Keighley is the one or maybe jimscomode24 from Batley then to be quite frank your p******g in the wind, exchanging a couple of messages isn’t going to make it any clearer, in my opinion you need to meet.

E – You’re really, really attractive and I haven’t even had a drink yet!!! (Joke)

F – I am wondering whether I should actually have numbered this list, well I’ve committed now so it will have to stay as letters (see that’s a good trait according to all the other profiles …Commitment)

J – You’re spontaneous and adventurous like me (check it out have gone from F to J on this list…Boom !!)

K – You have had at least one night in your life when the next morning you have thought “There is not enough soap in the world to make me feel clean after last night. I’m gonna need Jesus for this one”

Online dating….my thoughts

I think it was Jerry Seinfeld that said “What is a date really, but a job interview that lasts all night? The only difference is not many job interviews come with a chance you’ll wind up naked at the end of it.”

So with that in mind (especially the naked thing) I joined the land of Online dating and quickly realised it’s a bit like being in a cult or being a guest at the ubiquitous Hotel California made famous by The Eagles in 1977, it’s not a choice, once you’re in, you just can’t leave. You check you’re E-mail with obsessive regularity; it becomes an unhealthy addiction like someone with OCD, obviously without all the cool stuff like being able to remember all the names in the phonebook or being able to recite the numbers of pi to five hundred digits. Although I’m not too sure how those last two skills would be transferable to a dating situation, to be honest. I was to find, however that memorising a taxi firms telephone number would be increasingly handy if only to facilitate a hasty exit. Online dating is like a narcotic, it really is, its virtual smack for the lonely masses, in an ever increasing virtual world.

I was never that great at the real life dating game. When I was younger and at school, outside of note passing and the occasional tight-lipped kiss at home time, courting (as my mum called it) for me was pretty pointless. I couldn’t drive, had nowhere to go, and I either wasn’t allowed or couldn’t afford to do anything. Courting was kind of like being one half of an old married couple, except I could control my bowels and didn’t smell of piss and lavender. When I was a teenager, I wondered why most fathers tended to go berserk when I asked their daughters on a date…. I discovered that all fathers go berserk when their daughters start dating. I have to assume this was because all fathers were once teenagers at some point in their lives, so they had no illusions about whether or not I was going to try and tit their daughter up later that evening (which I was, and hopefully get fingers as well, if I was lucky) I recently spoke to my friend S whose daughter has just started dating and I asked him how he felt the first time he got ‘the knock’ as he has started calling it, he replied  “Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like you’re handing over a million pound Stradivarius to a really clumsy one armed gorilla”

As I got older, I think like most men I became increasingly worried about rejection, I say worried I mean terrified, unlike my mate C, he had no problem with it, in fact he positively revelled in it, I remember one time he went up to this stunning black girl and bold as brass said to her “I would love to get in your knickers” to which this girl replied “Don’t you think one cunts enough?” to most normal men this would be the equivalent to getting your testicles cut off and having them presented to you on a small silver tray with a handwritten note that says here’s your balls, now fuck off. Not C though, he just laughed it off and moved on. His chat up technique if you could call it a technique bordered on abuse (I say bordered, his chat up technique actually crashed through the border got really drunk, flashed its cock at the locals, snorted a line of coke off the bible and then passed out naked in the church doorway) one memorable occasion went like this, C spotted his target and moved in for the kill, two girls one gorgeous and one fat (why is that?) anyway in his typical silver tongued fashion C says to the fat one” Do you like dancing?”  We were amazed, he had decided to go for the one that looked like a slightly scruffy Jo Brand, and by the speed she was nodding her head we could tell, yes! She definitely did dance and what’s more she was more than willing to strut her funky stuff right there and then, quick as a flash C says “Good, fuck off and dance then, while I talk to your mate!”

So the first major hurdle I had to overcome was a user name! This is a veritable nightmare, take, for instance the unfortunate lady that picked Mandick_a488 or the less sexually aggressive sheilatakeabow who felt the need to state on her profile (obviously for all those not familiar with the lyrics of The Smiths) and without a hint of irony “Hello my name is not Sheila” and then there is just the plain weird Iwontmurderyou23.

Anyway, as my friends just refer to me as “The Bastard”. (They are at pains to point out to me it’s a term of endearment although I’m not so sure). As eloquent and cool as “The Bastard” sounded I was of the opinion that this would hardly be the moniker of a handsome, enigmatic, romancer so I had to come up with something original, witty and above all easy to remember, and obviously if I’m going to be advertising myself as a nice, honest, attractive male with a good job and a lot of love to give, someone who wants a partner for her mind and not her body then I am pretty certain that PussyPounder69 is not the way to go either. This was going to be more difficult than I thought then I nailed it, Snotcat…..A legend was born

I began reading the profiles and became aware very quickly that some people have just not heard the adage “A picture paints a thousand words” Some of these women were posting pictures of themselves that radiated all the charm and warmth of Myra Hindley after a particularly rough night out. Staring into the camera with dead eyes similar to the look Hugh Grant had on his mug shot after being caught with that hooker, the look that says “Fuck, this is my life down the shitter” although if I’m honest I would have been thinking “Fuck, suppose this means I won’t be putting the old man in Liz Hurley again anytime soon” There again if I’d been shagging her I wouldn’t have been letting some old crack addled skank lick my lovely Liz Hurley scented balls, but that’s just me

Then you’d get the descriptions “Hi my names Xena, I’m 6’ 3 tall and just dipping my toes and, I couldn’t help but think, her fucking massive hands, into this internet dating thing. My god could you imagine? What if Xena decided you were the one? She would just put you in your pocket and take you home like an Amazonian Josef Fritzl. Also ladies, let’s get this straight, any woman who describes themselves as a ‘single pringle’ makes it pretty fucking obvious why that is the case and if we wanted somebody friendly and loving with a zest for life that enjoys walks in the park, we’d just buy a fucking dog.

I first really considered online dating seriously after speaking to my cousin P. Now P has always found the dating game difficult on account of what he is…..Ginger, you see like Most Gingers he has all the Pulling power of a Small Fridge Magnet. Indeed, up until his early twenties it is generally accepted that the only sexual experience he had was when he fucked a dwarf whilst on holiday in Greece. He strenuously denies this and claims it is an urban myth. However, there are witnesses that will testify (unfortunately for him) that it is the truth. Despite his obvious shortcomings I asked him how he had worded his profile and he told me he had described himself as tall, dark and handsome…Now this would be a pretty good description of P if he stood on a chair, turned out the light…and lied. Yet he had been quite successful having met quite a few girls and is now in fact engaged to somebody he met on a dating site, so hopefully she won’t read this and get upset by the dwarf thing, anyway she is 4’ 11” tall so in comparison to P’s previous conquests is quite statuesque, she is a veritable Bridgette Nilsson in fact. Anyway, I asked him, other than the outrageous lies, what else had he written on his profile and these were his exact words “I am looking for a woman between 18-98 years old, fat or thin with black, blonde or brown hair. Personality is not important. Must live somewhere in the UK.” Then he told me, and this is gods honest truth “I really wanted to write, Must like watching soaps, but I didn’t want to come across as too fussy!” Then after taking a moment to collect himself and with darkness clouding his eyes, he said “There are easier things in life than trying to find a perfect woman……things like nailing fucking jelly to a tree” and with that he left.

I have lots of stories, mainly ones I have been told by other people and then added “an embellishment” or two to make them more interesting there’s the classic alopecia blow job story, the OCD date story and one of my personal favourites, no my girlfriend died in a car crash a week ago but I am over her now story (all genuine stories that have been embellished to make them a bit funnier) I wish my friends called these Lee’s Lovely Stories, but they usually call them “The Bastards Lies” By the way my friends do not call me “The Bastard”

A Good review of a restaurant I visited in Leeds

The British summer inevitably means that groups of men all across the country will be huddled around a heap of coals, getting increasingly drunk trying mostly in vain to light and stoke a barbecue whilst simultaneously keeping the children from spraying themselves, the dog and the garden with lighter fluid and accidentally turning themselves, the loyal family pet and your well-manicured lawn into a scene reminiscent of Dante’s inferno. So, why bother with all the expense, time and numerous visits to the vet and the serious burns unit when you can get all this at the cattle grid without moving from the comfort of a chair.

Today I feel like a proper man, as manly as Bear Grylls, Vin Diesel and Chuck Norris put together. My chest feels hairier, my voice deeper and I am sure I am slightly more attractive to the female species than when I walked into the establishment. Is there anything more primitive than eating, indeed tearing meat from the bones of a recently slaughtered animal? Well I imagine that grabbing a female and dragging her by her hair back to your cave and to coin a phrase ‘doing it like they do on the discovery channel’ comes pretty close but hey ho.

Anyway I digress, back to my visit…upon entering the restaurant I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by what only can be described as 70’s ‘adult movie’ style music drifting through the air, this initially filled me with an air of trepidation, I had a flashback to my slightly mispent youth, days spent smuggling in ‘Adult’ video tapes (Betamax format)into my parent’s house and trying (in vain I later found out) to procure a safe hiding place ready for some ‘private’ viewing later.

And so on to the food, after studying the menu, which in itself makes a refreshing change, you don’t actually need a degree in literature to get through it. Choose from poultry, pig, cow, toppings, and burgers and then something called a salad?!? Following a recommendation from one of my party I decided to order the peri-peri ribs and to be honest I wasn’t holding out much hope with regards how spicy this would be. I have been disappointed with so called spicy food so many times before, I have suffered moments of cooking so cack-handed, so foul, and so astoundingly grim you want to congratulate the kitchen on its incompetence. The service was attentive but never intrusive, my only gripe and it’s a very small one indeed was the wait for the drinks, they arrived after the food. I have a small (LARGE) anxiety complex about eating food without a drink….It’s not me being a bit of a mentalist…ok it is me being a bit of a mentalist but hey you can’t look this good and not have some sort of issue.

My ribs arrived! Sorry, my ribs actually made an entrance, slightly reminiscent of a WWE wrestler, all that was missing was strobe lighting, pyrotechnics and the obligatory rock anthem pumping from the speakers. In my personal opinion these ribs should be brought to the table by a waiter who enters in total darkness with nothing but a lantern to guide him to the table accompanied by The Doors lamenting that this is ‘The End’. These are my friends’ bad*ss ribs, make no mistake.

It was shock and awe as plate after plate of glistening, steaming ribs were laid before a spellbound audience. Testosterone filled the air and I’m sure one of my friends started to growl a little as we realised that only an Alpha was going to able to finish this plate off. The ribs were tender with the meat literally falling off the bone and the peri peri sauce actually added a comfortable amount of heat to the dish and just in case it wasn’t enough for you the ribs were sprinkled liberally with green and red chillies. The chips that come with the dish were plentiful and crisp in fact it was a struggle to finish them off after consuming half a pig.

I finally managed to finish the plate of food that had been laid before me, my trousers and shirt stretched to breaking point but strangely enough I wasn’t uncomfortably full. Visions of my childhood flashed through my head as I happily wiped the sauce from my cheeks, nose, chin and for some strange reason forehead with the wet wipes that are supplied. As we were leaving Billie Jean by Michael Jackson started to play over the speakers and I happily moonwalked out of the cattle Grid past the table of a family whose eyebrow less children and slightly scorched looking dog were tucking into plates of ribs and steak.

My Review of poor restaurant in Leeds

16 of us attended Veritas for dinner from work. I have to commend the establishment on their fantastic selection of beers. However, I was extremely disappointed with the quality of the food I was served. Veritas charge premium money for their food but unfortunately the quality is not reflected in the price.

To start I had the Black pudding, bacon and garlic butter “bruschetta”, well they called it “bruschetta” it was in fact half a bread cake that had been toasted to within an inch of its life. It was with trepidation that I nibbled at bits of the blank tasting black pudding, I was then overcome with a vision of a crying Lancashire pig farmer, and put it down. it was sprinkled liberally with bacon bits and some sort of motor oil lightly fragranced with garlic. The bread cake itself had all the texture of a slightly dry kitchen sponge, it was without a doubt the single saddest, greasiest “bruschetta” ever.

Then it came to ordering the main course, I have never been to a restaurant at 7pm before only to be told they only have 1 steak left !!! All I can imagine is that it is the only decent thing on the menu and any regulars that may go there order early to avoid disappointment ?!?

Anyway I digress, Onto my main course, the menu was an unreliable predictor of what actually came to the table…It claimed Indian Spiced Rump of Lamb with Curried Cauliflower, Saag Aloo & Coriander, Mango and Mint Sauce what actually arrived bore no resemblance to that mouth-watering description. My lamb splayed itself across my plate like a wino suffering with sun stroke surrounded by strangely psychedelically coloured cauliflower florets on a bed of potatoes that tasted like vinegary polo mints. The lamb itself was so unevenly cooked I couldn’t decide which side to complain about. It was a pile of failure served in a sadness bowl.

I realize that a great many people like this restaurant and think it is worth 5 stars, but then again there are a significant number of people who enjoy being peed on or watching made in Chelsea, However, personally I would rather pass a kidney stone without pain relief than eat here again to be honest

Would I call in for a drink at this establishment again….An emphatic yes !! Would I eat here again ??? …….a definite no !!!