Luke's Diary: An Unlucky Man In A Zombie Apocalypse. Entries 757 to 956

Enttry 947: Wednesday 1st May 2019

Entry 947
Wednesday 1st May 2019

I'm a road sweeper! I'm a f*cking road sweeper! Not that there's anything wrong with being a road sweeper, but all this has come about because Blade is being a tw*t!

I was sat in the living room with Mum, playing with Leo when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door and a GRID soldier was stood there. "Luke Warm?" he said. "Yeah..." I said with intrigue. The soldier handed me an envelope, a bunch of keys and a large brown jiffy bag. He then left. "Another nice, polite GRID soldier," I said. "What's he given you?" Mum asked. "That's what I should have said to you when you same home yesterday with your makeup smudged all over your face," I said. I opened up the envelope and quietly read the note that was inside. Annoyance and dismay appeared on my face and Mum noticed. "What is it?" she said. "It's from Blade," I bluntly said, "He's given me my new job allocation. I opened up the brown jiffy envelope and produced a high vis vest and some work overalls. "I'm a road sweeper," I bluntly said, "The b*stard has made me a road sweeper. Mooching around Cowes, sweeping up litter, dealing with cr*p and picking up sh*t. He's done this to get at back me." "For what?" asked Mum. "What do you mean for what?" I snapped. "For me having a go at him the other day when I got back from Southampton. God, what an arsehole." I carried on reading Blade's note. It was worded very bluntly. Straight to the point. "He wants me to start now," I exclaimed, "Like, now. Right now. God, he could have given me a bit of notice. What a tw*t. I mean, what a total and utter tw*t." "At least it's a job, sausage," said Mum, "You won't be bored. You'll be making a contribution." "Yeah," I bluntly said, "Picking up sh*t. I used to be an account manager." "Oh sausage," said Mum, "Don't be a snob. A job's a job." "Blade giving me this sh*t job is basically him sticking his two fingers up at me." "He's a bit of alright that Blade," said Mum, "I wouldn't mind him sticking his fingers up me. "Oh my God!" I loudly exclaimed, "Jesus! Can I just have a few moments to moan without you turning everything into some sex related fantasy." "I'm just saying!" said Mum. "Yeah, well don't," I snapped. I quickly jumped into my overalls and donned my high-vis vest. "Right then," I bluntly said, "I'd better get on with it. It says here that there's a storage unit in Cowes near the boarded up public toilets, and that I can get what I need from there. I think I'd rather be out there picking up sh*t than be stuck in here listening to you fantasising about getting fingered by Blade."

Cut to me wearing my grubby overalls and high-vis vest, sweeping the pedestrianised streets of Cowes, collecting litter in a bag and picking up dog sh*t. God. The people of Cowes are proper dirty b*stards. Just as I was picking up some sort of food wrapper – my 1000th of the day, Madeline and Richard appeared arm in arm. "Well good day y'all," said Madeline with a big cheery smile, "Now what do we have here Elizabeth?" "What does it look like?" I bluntly said. "Well," said Madeline, "I'm going to go with some sort of community voluntary work, or what you Brits call Community Service." "It's neither," I said, "This is my new job." "Well, I think that's a mighty fine thing to be proud of," said Madeline. "Sweeping up cr*p and picking up sh*t," I bluntly said, "Yeah. Really proud." "I don't think I could be a litter picker," said Richard, "I don't really like working outside. You get sunburn in the summer and frostbite in the winter. Mind you, I don't really like working inside either." "Oh. listen to my little Dicky," giggled Madeline, "Doesn't he just crack you up?" "We heard about what happened in Southampton," said Richard, "Sorry about Kyle. He used to play cards with me when we lived in the zoo. I never won." "Yeah well at least we parted on good terms," I said, "I'm just glad to be back home. Even if I am picking up sh*t." "There's nothing wrong with picking up the brown bum bogeys Elizabeth," said Madeline, "Someone has to do it. Down on the farm we had a farmhand whose job was to go from one side of the farm to the other and pick up the poop. Daisy's poop. Thumper's poop. Billy's poop. Annabella's poop. Thomas McIntyre's poop." "Thomas McIntyre?" I said, "That's a weird name for a farm animal." "Oh no," chuckled Madeline, "He was the man who used to watch over the corn field when the scarecrow wasn't working. He was incontinent, poor dear." "I don't like scarecrows," said Richard, "They scare me." "They should be called a scare-Richard," giggled Madeline, "Oh, he's funny isn't he? He makes me burst into laughter sometimes. You know, he says the funniest things. You know Elizabeth being out on the streets and keeping the place tidy is good for you. You're active, you're contributing and it's good exercise. There's nothing worse than sitting down all day. The Devil makes work for idle hands you know y'all. I used to work in an office where I spent seven out of eight hours sat on a chair, stuck to a desk and stuck to a screen. When it got to five in the PM and I was able to stand up and get the Heck out of there, I could feel my fanny coming back to life." "I've never liked the idea of a desk job," said Richard, "To be honest I'm not really a big fan of desks." "Oh, listen to him," chuckled Madeline, "There's no stopping him. He just comes out with the most outrageous things. You know Elizabeth, sometimes I just sit at home listening to what he has to say and I just burst into one fit of laughter after the other." "I don't like laughing too much," Richard said glumly, "My jaw tends to hurt, and you can get a stitch in your side." Madeline giggled. "See!" Madeline chuckled, pointing at Richard, "It's like a non-stop comedy tour." Madeline and Richard left but not before making me promise to go round to theirs one night to taste some of Madeline's pumpkin pie. I hope that's not a euphemism.

I carried on sweeping up all of the rubbish along the side of pavement, when I eventually came to this old calypso lolly wrapper. It was wedged between the edge of the road and the curb at the bottom of the pavement. I tried to pick it up with the long grabber thing I had, but it couldn't get a grip. I picked up my sweeping brush and quickly started pushing the bristles of the brush against the old lolly wrapper. It wouldn't budge and I could feel myself getting annoyed, so I increased the vigour and speed at which I was pushing the brush against the bit of rubbish. "Come on you f*cker" I said, as I continued prodding the bristles of the brush against the curb in a desperate attempt to retrieve the wrapper. WHOOSH! I removed the calypso wrapper but in my energic movement I ended up hitting a nearby woman hard in the leg with the bristly end of my brush. To make matters worse, I said "Got you, ya b*tch," as I released the niggly piece of rubbish and the woman thought I was talking about her. "Oh Hell," I said, "I am so sorry." "For what exactly?" snapped the woman who gave me a furious stare as she rubbed her leg, "Assaulting me with a brush or calling me a b*tch." "Oh, I wasn't on about you," I said, "I was on about..." "Oh forget it," said the angry interrupting to me, "I don't want to hear your excuses. This is why people like you are sweeping roads instead of teaching children." "People like me?" I snapped. "Yes," snapped the woman, "Lower class people with less than average intelligence." I gasped and stared at the woman. I couldn't believe how rude she was being. "Oh, do you know what?" I snapped, "F*ck you, you stuck up b*tch. It was an accident, and I was trying to say sorry, but I'm glad I whacked you with my brush now." "How dare you," snapped the woman, "I'm going to find out who your manager is and complain." "Do what you want," I snapped. "I will," said the woman, "You stick to sweeping the path instead of hitting people with your brush. Stupid man." The woman then walked off. God, I was angry. Could the day get any worse I thought to myself? That's when TJ appeared!

"F*cking Hell," he said with a big smug grin on his face, "Look at this. It's Trigger from Only Fools and Horses." "Don't start TJ," I bluntly said, "I'm already having a bad day." "I'm not surprised," he said, "You look like you're doing community service. Our Mike did community service once. His probation worker was well fit. I remember licking her out under her desk whist Mike was outside scrubbing graffiti that said 'TJ HAS A BIG C*CK' off the side of the church wall." "TJ, I am not in the mood for your bullsh*t," I said, "This job is horrible. I think Blade only gave it to me to get his own back after I had a go at him the other day. You know people see me in this high vis jacket and just think it gives them permission to talk to me like sh*t." "Course they do," said TJ, "Everyone knows road sweepers are the scum of the Earth." "TJ, that's a really narrow-minded thing to say," I said, "I am still making a contribution." "Alright Jeremy Corbyn, chill out," said TJ, "It doesn't help that you actually look like sh*t. I hope you make more of an effort for our double date tomorrow." "Well if any more people talk to me like sh*t I think I'll become a hermit," I said. "You can just get your lighter out and set fire to them, can't you?" said TJ. "F*ck off," I bluntly said, "That was different." "I know what you mean though," said TJ, "I was just in Sainsbury's and there was this fit b*tch queueing in front of me. I haven't had a wank today, so I tapped her on the shoulder and very politely asked her if she wanted to nosh me off." "You didn't!?" I loudly gasped. "Yeah," said TJ, looking at me as if I was the one with the problem, "Little TJ's got needs you know. Moody b*tch turned round and whacked me in the face with a pack of chicken breasts." "What did you say?" I asked. "I asked her if she wanted to do that with her ACTUAL breasts rather than the chicken breasts," said TJ. "Please tell me you're joking," I said. "No," said TJ, "You don't ask, you don't get. This is why you're a sad, saggy little virgin." "What did she do then?" I asked. "She said if she ever saw me again, she'd knee me hard in the knackers, and then she got me chucked out," said TJ, "There's only two reasons; she was either on the blob, or she's a big lezza." "Or she just doesn't respond to sexual harassment," I said. "Sexual harassment?" gasped TJ, "It's not sexual harassment. I didn't have to harass anything. There was nothing for me to harass. It's called sexual confidence. You could do with some of that. Maybe then your miniscule c*ck would get a bit more action. In fact, we should have a bet. I bet ten credits that I get off with my date tomorrow before you get off with yours." I thought about it and then agreed. "Fine," I said, shaking TJ's hand, "May the best man win."

What a day! Sweeping cr*p up, picking up sh*t and being spoken to like a piece of dirt by stuck up members of the public. I don't think I'm going to enjoy this job, but looking on the more positive side of life (I think!), I have a double date tomorrow. Let's hope it goes well. With TJ involved you can probably guarantee that it won't, but I am determined to win my bet and snog my date before TJ snogs his.