This is a very small post, before a very big weekend.
In Ireland, we are about to embark upon the infamous August Bank Holiday Weekend. In essence, it means hardly anyone has to work on Monday. In general, it means communal debauchery.
Whatever the weather, this is a calendar event so large, that the entire month of January cowers before it. There are 3,986 festivals taking place all over this island. Some are big. Some are marginally smaller than the annual toenail clipping festival I mentioned before. Some involve horses or trains; some, like the one I’ll be going to – in a fecking lovely part of the world where I grew up – involve boats and water. But the upshot of this is that it becomes impossible to blog intelligently in the face of such a mighty three days.
So I’m off to Clare. And in the meantime, here is a stock photo which had me scratching my head, rubbing my eyes and cocking my head to the side, like a West Highland terrier who’s just been told they’re not as cute as the cutest cutie in the whole wide world.
Off we go once again to the Irish Times. And once again I say thank you, lads. In this segment, I normally focus on unlikely office workers. But I had to make an exception in this case.
This is a post about freelancing. Why is there a pink pig on it?
And yes, I know it’s probably supposed to be a moneybox. But why is he standing in what looks like a pool of slurry?
What keyword or phrase was used to find this stock image? Was it “independence”? “My boss is a swine”? Or seeing as they’re Irish, could it have been “as happy as a pig in shit”?
And is it just me, or does the pig look terrified?
I have a three-day weekend to come up with some answers. On the other hand, if anyone out there knows, they might put me out of my misery today.
Enjoy the weekend, folks.
It looks like a classic American piggy bank,as we call them. I fortunately never had one. Mine was a teddy bear.
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But a freelance piggy bank? I can’t think of anything more imprisoned and endangered than a child’s piggy bank. The poor pink patsy.
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Keyword: capitalism…or nonsense.
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Or perhaps even ‘free’, as in photo.
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Yeah. Or ‘what does free market look like?’
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If I answered that, I’d have defeated the purpose of this post, which was to not think before the weekend. Leave it with me while I ponder this one in the pub…
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Lol but I must go on,because now I have been enlightened. The free market is a fake pig that pees green. Says a lot and also so little.
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I’m a huge fan of anything that says little about a lot. Feel free.
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The pig’s just taken a dump. That’s what pigs do – right out in the open where people can see. No shame, pigs.
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Poor piggies. What did they do to you? Still, I agree. Where is their pride?
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That’s lions, Tara. Pigs is a drift.
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Magnificent. You obviously haven’t switched off for the weekend just yet.
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Um, you work as a freelancer for pay so meager you only need a very small, terrified pink piggy bank?? I dunno, I got nuthin. And I don’t even have a three-day festival to go to. Have fun and let us all think on it over the weekend. 🙂
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Do you know, Lorraine, without ringing up the Irish Times picture desk, that might just be the best explanation we have. Who knows what you’ll come up with by Monday?!
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The pig is obviously terrified.
It stands on a brown pool of unspecified substance.
I think we all know what happened here…
As for the insinuation that you’d go around telling Westies they’re not as cute as the cutest cutie in the whole wide world, you do realize you’re a monster, right? RIGHT??
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I know this, Nicholas. You know this. Everyone knows this. People don’t come here for the cuteness. Any Westies lurking around here trying to fluffy up this blog will meet short shrift.
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I can only respond with a photo:
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It’s no good, Nicholas. Heart of stone. Not even a puppy can move me.
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Gasp! You… you monster! Are you Chandler Bing?
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No. I’m Angela Merkel.
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ROFL – sorrry, my bad 😀
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The pig may well be a baffling choice of photo, but while you go off to tar and feather the editor who chose it, can I take an aluminium baseball bat to whoever invented the word ‘listicle?’ Could it be the same maggot who invented the word frenemy? Will people stop inventing non-words like these before I self-combust?
And I’m gutted at missing that toenail clipping festival. I’ve written a bold entry in my diary for next February, but if I wait ’til then I probably won’t be able to get my shoes on.
And a couple of questions regarding the festival you’re going to: did you buy your ticket from Rodger’s Off Licence? And will you be taking part in the busking competition?
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Chris, your follow-through is uncommonly wonderful. I hope you read all of the Harbour Festival programme, there was a subliminal call to arms half-way down page 3, but not a listicle in sight. Good luck with the toenails. Might I recommend an angle-grinder?
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I almost threw out the angle grinder thinking I’d never use it, so thanks for the tip. In the meantime I have a Dremmel with 400 piece accessory set, so there’s bound to be a little abrasive wheel that’ll fit between the toes.
Unfortunately, the leaflet pages aren’t numbered and I couldn’t find the call to arms. However, I was disturbed to see Sunday’s Fishing for Kids event. Is this an attempt to bolster a falling birth rate in some parts of Ireland or are the people of County Clare simply cruel? (What sort of bait would you use anyway…?)
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Oh no, Chris, the real motive is far darker than that. Far, far darker. It’s not a million miles away from your Dremmel set, in fact. I can’t really say more.
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The mind boggles.
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I like made-up words! Verbing words (= to turn nouns into verbs), in particular, is so much fun!
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I’ll have to let the two of you slug it out on this one, Nick. I like made-up words too, but not when they sound like they’ve been made up by 20-year-old marketing interns. A bit of flair, let alone wit, would go a long way sometimes!
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I bow to the queen of wit 🙂
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Ah no, get up, now. You have work to do, and all the bowing and scraping this week is beginning to make me feel nauseous 😉
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*dusts knees, scrambles to feet* Apologies, melady!
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The computer that wrote the ‘Summer Filler’ probably picked it. The computer is cheaper than freelancers and doesn’t throw a hissy when the editor cuts the crap out of the article.
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I never thought of that, Conor. And it can only get better: I heard a rumour there are only 2.8 journalists on staff in the IT for the entire month of August (including the temporary South of France bureau). I could be looking at enough post fodder for the fourth quarter.
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Terrified? Glum, resigned, subservient perhaps. Its the silly season, stoopid! Actually it really is – this is a pig in a pickle, he is standing on his wallet and there is no way, given his anatomy, to extract his ID card out of the wallet and prove that he is really a would-be free-lancing human… I think I’ve gone off piste.
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Oh, I don’t know, Hilary… this anatomical wallet obstacle is a serious issue that has been ignored for far too long. I mean, I’m sick of being stiffed by pigs who won’t buy their round. Perhaps the silly season is the perfect time to do a proper exposé?
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Thing is, how are you now that it’s nearly Tuesday?
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I’m horrified, quite frankly. The look on my face is not dissimilar to the pig’s. It gave me no warning whatsoever. Isn’t there some way of preventing this pain??
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I guess if the pig had have been green the world (well at least the Irish part) would have seemed a whole nicer place?! Now then, a green pig in a pool of whatsit…that’s genuine freelancing
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Or free-basing. Either way, someone in that office was drunk or hungover…
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