Give me money

I've just finished my application to be a tutor for the History department this year. I understand my chances are rather slim. Something about me being a devilishly handsome dude who would charm the women (and inadvertently half the blokes). I applied anyway because the thought of being the centre of attention is rather intoxicating. And I get paid. But the chance of me getting it is, as I said, rather slim. I'm a student and they would rather give it to people with no association with the department.

So I added a literary device to the end of my letter. It's called blackmail.

I couched it in rather academic terms. To put it in laymans terms (or as I like to call it 'Claire' language), I said something along the lines of "You need me to be a Ph.D. candidate because no-one else is going to and I'm not going to do it unless you give me money through tutoring".

I doubt it will work. But it felt good. So I'm going to use 'blackmail' more often. I think it will help me advance in these times of dark and dank corporate greed and irresponsibility. I could make my millions threatening to show the world pictures of Paul Homes naked (hook a brother up, Pete). Then use my ill-gotten gains to buy my way out of a jail term (I could be a whistle blower. Sorry, Pete) and then launder my money and laundry in the Caribbean with lots of gorgeous groupies. Oh yes, the some I shall get.

Unfortunately my daydream is being interrupted by the constant pounding in the History corridors. Big hairy bald men are stealing our wallets, CD's and women while at the same time demolishing and restructuring our floor.

This looks like a job for The Blackmailer.