(real life place not made up)
No not you, you dirty little ad wretch.
Apparently the best job in the world is open for applications, as reported in the Daily Mail. I don't frequent the Daily Mail online, by the way, it just caught my eye when my female was reading it, honest.
What could possibly be better than having my ideas inhaled by a finger-pointing, scrotum-shaving, boss-bumming bastard of an accounts man, who will promptly shit them all back out, I hear you scream?
How about being the caretaker of Hamilton Island off the Queensland Coast?
The salary equates to almost a grand an hour and your main responsibilties will include feeding turtles and counting how many farts you can perpetrate on any given day.
Yep, don't worry about the request for voluntary redundancy going round the office or the latest kick in the balls news story of a client going down the pan; there's still some fucking great jobs out there*.
In all seriousness, I bet my left nipple that some Big Brother winner's little sister who knows someone on X-factor wannabe celebrity ends up with the job - aka, a good looking bastard with shite for brains.
*This is the only one, you're doomed.
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