It started when I had to get a proper job to pay big Dave his rent.

Dolly Parton made 9-to-5 sound well cool as a kid.

But stuff Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, what do they know?

It's not them that lives off Souper Noodles and only gets pissed every two weeks on a Thursday, is it?

The interview for t'job went well. I felt pretty good.

I talked for England like my life depended on it.

I answered every single question that they threw at me.

All I really needed this job for were to pay Dave his dues, like I say, and to buy some new records.

Like that new Haim track. Have you heard it? It's wicked. 8:00 Monday morning.

It was lobbing it down outside. I had to wear my dad's old wedding suit.

It didn't really fit, but I made it fit.

Then, when I got there at work, I were only one wearing a frigging suit.

What's that all about? Then they took us upstairs. There were about 20 of us.

I thought we were all going to get shot. Floor one, floor two, floor three, and so on.

I felt like I were in a zoo, looking at thousands of monkeys with headsets on, just talking gibberish.

There were loads of girls that worked there and all, which were all right.

Watching them eat their Toblerones, I could tell a call center girl's never alone.

I tried talking to one, but she couldn't understand what I was saying because she didn't speak any English.

Anyway, I'm selling shoes now because it's better hours.