Andy's ideal job, Teesdale Mercury

Andy's ideal job

Mar 25, 2008

SEASONED Teesdale watchers will know that the dale has a new hero. A man called Andy (yes, it had to be an Andy or a Des or Tony) broadcast a local radio programme but forgot to put the plug in, so no-one could hear it.  

An eagle-eared manager tried to ring him up to tell him that the world was oblivious but couldn't get through because Andy (dear Andy) was himself oblivious, concentrating on his next easy listening disc and mordant witticism.  

My reaction was to wonder how many other programmes dear Andy has un-broadcast when the manager was on his hols or still asleep. On these days, he will have gone home to Mrs Andy and told her he thought it went down really well. She will have told him how well she thought he had done and how much she had enjoyed his programme,  even though she had in fact been listening to Farming Today or Icelandic heavy metal. In other words, the perfect programme, making no enemies and saving the environment.

The world's media were wrong to pick on this story as exceptional, since Andy was only following a fine Teesdale tradition of planned irrelevance.  Andy has also missed his proper vocation.

Anyone who can spend a whole morning enjoying the creation at public expense of something no-one will ever hear or read and never asked for in the first place should obviously have been a local government officer or income tax official. 

In the case of tax officers, their existence at least serves the purpose of creating useful hate figures, so perhaps Andy should just concentrate on getting into Aykley Heads asap.

When I contacted Kevin Pyramid, 22 and eleven twelfths, to ask about career opportunities for Andy, he was too busy to answer my call, but when I rang again to say that I was a lay inspector from the Audit Commission, I got through straight away.  

Yes, said Kev, it was true that he had received glowing references from Teesdale District Council when he applied for the post of Senior Criteria Referencing Overview Team Under-Manager (SCROTUM) in the new County Durham Unitary Authority.  

He read a bit out for me. He knew what it said because he had written it himself for his pal to sign in return for a similar favour. 

"I recommend Kevin without reservation to the advertised post," it said, "because he has had great success in eliminating from his profile all tendencies to (a) listen to a word anyone says, (b) undertake any task which could be described as useful or (c) ever to question Government gobbledygook. He is a model employee, since no-one has any idea what he is doing or what the hell he is drivelling on about. I predict an even brighter future for him in a much larger authority where the opportunities for twaddle are endless. He also pays his tea money on time." 

 I asked Kev if he needed an assistant, but he said the appointment procedure was lengthy; he also felt that anyone who could put out a programme no-one could hear might prove a little too much of a rival.  

"Having learnt from the experience of Julius Caesar, I like to surround myself with lesser men, so that my elitist brilliance can more effectively be offset by the worthy dullness of mere functionaries," he said, somewhat unexpectedly, before going for a lie-down in the stock cupboard.

Wonder Andy is not alone in mastering the art of high profile amnesia. Holwick-dwelling Jed Bracket, one-time Olympic gold medallist in Synchronised Sheep Dipping, is recovering from injuries he received when training this week for Beijing.  

Observed by live-in lover Doris Bracegirdle, Jed tried his new splashless back somersault entry into the dip with three mule gimmers, only to find that his little love child had drained it to "give the tiles a swill down."  

With her loved one in mid-air, Doris realised her omission, but her cries went unheeded as Jeddybaby and the girls hit the deck. Doris is trying to coax Jed back to fitness by cradling his head against an ample part of her anatomy.  

In reply to calls from national officials worried about the availability of their medal hope, Jed replied through an interpreter that he was quite content with things just as they are.  

The gimmers went down very well with mint sauce.

First published in the Mercury, March 19, 2008