What a Load of Rubbish Read Online Free

understand, I want to be a professional street cleaner – the best street cleaner there ever was, the best there ever will be.”
    The careers master tried to put him off this crazy idea; he could not understand this lack of ambition. “B-but street cleaners are ten-a-penny – nobody wants to be a street cleaner. Uurrgh! Think of all that dog mess. Please be sensible, don’t waste your talents, young man.”
    â€œWaste my talents?” replied Malcolm. “Waste my talents? It’s in my blood – my father was a street cleaner.” He went on, “And so was ’is father and ’is father and ’is father’s father – oh yeah, and his father and his father before him… Oh yeah and –” Malcolm related his family history, describing in detail the vital part played by the Tilsley family in the Wars of the Roses and the Dunkirk evacuation.
    The careers master was quite shaken. “Have you ever considered a career in medi…” But he never quite got to the end of the sentence. Malcolm cut him off dead.
    â€œAnd why do you think those stones arepiled up so neatly at Stone’enge?” reasoned Malcolm to the careers master.
    This was too much. The poor careers master started to tear his hair.
    â€œThat’s quite enough, young Tilsley, I wash my hands of you and when I’ve washed them, I’ll make a phone call.” He rubbed his hands together theatrically and made the call and the following Monday, Malcolm was interviewed by a rather thin, quite nervous Mister Bartholemew, who sent him upstairs to Mister Eckerslike who glowered at him and muttered grudgingly.
    â€œAlreet – y’young beggar, but I ’ope you like you like ’ard graft. I said I ’ope you like ’ard work or I’ll fire you before t’week is out!” Then he sent Malcolm back downstairs to Mister Bartholemew who issued him with slightly oversized overalls, a donkey jacket and orders to, “Report here at 8-30 sharp, next Monday morning!”
    At 8-15 the following Monday morning Malcolm stood outside Suburbiaville Council works depot yard, fresh-faced and clean-shaven. His donkey jacket had been tailored, courtesy of a Mister Patel, proprietor of a newly opened “Pat’s Perfect Dry Cleaners”. It fit like a glove and he was wearing a clean shirt and a tie.
    Mister Bartholemew was most impressed by this new lad’s punctuality and turn-out. “Good morning, youngman!” he smiled, doffing his hat and wondering how long this enthusiasm would last.
    Five minutes later Mister Eckerslike turned up in his BMW and grunted, “Oh it’s thee – go an’ see Bartholemew an’e will issue thee wi’ a barrow. Well, go on, I said. Go an’ see my underling an’ he will gi’yer your new barrow.”
    On that very morning Malcolm was issued with a barrow. Okay, so it was pretty battered and a bit rickety, having seen better days but over the years Malcolm kept adding little improvements until it came to look as it does today – large, bulky, bright orange, shiny and unwieldy with mirrors and headlights. You see, Malcolm took his occupation very seriously indeed. He did not simply clean streets. He purged public thoroughfares.
    Over the years, news of Malcolm’s sterling work reached the ears of HRH the Queen herself, and he was summoned to a royal garden party to receive an award for public service “above and beyond the call of duty”. Unfortunately, he was unable to attend, so he wrote a letter, “respectfully declining” her “most kind and generous invitation” saying that as the garden party took place on a Monday he had to be on duty, to clean up Willowy Lane and the surrounding area. Therefore, would “Her Majesty mind terribly if he did not attend andreceived the honour by post instead”. He signed it, “Your most loyal public servant, Malcolm