I’ve had a fair few career changes over the years, from purveyor of secondhand books to grocery shop assistant to sandwich bar operator to restauranteur to Law Agent to holiday apartment host and finally to vacation apartment booking agent, after which, exhausted, I retired into obscurity.
Should circumstances conspire to force me back into slavery it could only be as a clown. Yes, you’ve got it, I’d join a circus! I mean people have been telling me all my life that I’m a clown and my friends think I clown around in my garden breaking my back and growing stuff they can get in Lidl for a euro.
Add to that, in my punk days I wore white clown makeup. It’s the only makeup I’ve ever worn. I’ve never owned lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara or rouge. I painted my face white and bleached my hair the same colour. I’m sure you will agree I looked divine.
I remember meeting a neighbour early one Sunday morning while popping into work without make-up. “Jesus Christ Almighty” she exclaimed when she saw me “I always thought you were Albino”
I often wore monks robes I made myself as well as a shroud I purchased from an undertaker. My appearance attracted quite a bit of comment and I got innumerable unimaginative poor souls walking behind me singing the theme to The Addams Family imagining they were hilarious or enquiring "how much do you charge to haunt a house," the stock reply to which was “how many rooms?” But I recall one more inspired chappie who quipped “Where did you park your rocket?”
Yes, indeed, I think I’d make a great clown. Perfect for the clown world we inhabit today. Come to think of it, I could probably get a job in politics. There’s no greater clown show than that!
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