"What about skills? You must have a few skills to offer at least."
"Sure I have."
"What are they then?"
"Let's see... I can drive anything from a Mini to a Maclaren. I can also handle speedboats, tanks, planes and a variety of spaceships. I'm familiar with a variety of ancient as well as advanced weapon systems, be they hand held, part of some kind of body armour or mounted on a vehicle.

"What else... Oh yes. I can play most sports at Olympic and world championship standard: football, athletics, golf, rugby, snooker, tennis, snowboarding, you name it. I also feel I that can safely say, with all sincerity, that I am both a team player and someone who doesn't mind being left alone to use their imagination and ingenuity to solve a problem, be it a troublesome door, a fifty foot cliff or a nasty, blob-like creature. I reckon that I can concentrate for long periods at a time and can dedicate myself to a task without giving up. How's that?"

"We're talking about computer games here, aren't we?"
"Yes."
"And I don't suppose you have any warehouse experience, do you."
"No."
"Well, that doesn't matter. Just take this slip of paper over to where that lady's sitting and she'll tell you all about it."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes... and you're going to carry on applying for jobs until you're blue in the face! There are too many kids today like you who do nothing all day but play bloody computer games. If I see you again I'll cut your benefit; now go away. Next!"

Mr Brown watches him go, his eyes bulging behind his glasses, as another victim approaches.
'Who are you?"
"Paul Jones."
"Ah yes, Mr Jones... So why haven't you got a job yet? It says here you're highly experienced."
"I am."
"So what have you done since leaving school?"
"Commanded armies; conquered worlds..."
"Oh for fuck's sake..."