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Brain cells, brain cells. I’m sick of hearing about how clever and efficient the brain cells are. When it comes down to efficiency, you can’t beat the anus cell for work ethic.
All biological cells in the human body are universal and define themselves and their job by those cells around them. They all contain the required elements to determine what they should become and apply themselves accordingly. Isn’t that amazing? This means each and every cell is capable of doing anything it’s asked to do. If you’re assigned to work downstairs in the rusty bullet hole then you’re an anus cell. If you’re in the left ear shoveling earwax then you’re an ear cell – simple.
What a utilitarian paradise our bodies are. There’s work for all; no unemployment; no need for unions; one wage for all; and no need for holiday leave. Our cells do everything they’re asked without any tea breaks and never complain about the long hours. The brain is the boss, and would probably have a large human resources section where all new cells report for their first day at work. A new young cell turns up for his first day at work in his dad’s suit with clean socks on. The conversation would go something like this:
New Cell: Hello. I am a new cell reporting for work today.
Human Resources Cell Manager: Hello young cell. You are to report to the supervisor in the Anus this morning. Do you know how to get there?
New Cell: Yes. I know a blood cell that is car pooling and is leaving on the jugular express this morning for the Anus.
New Cell (later that morning): Hello Anus Cell Supervisor, I am a new cell reporting for work.
New Cell Supervisor: Yes, good morning son. Please get into that astronaut suit over there and go to the Svinkter where there’s a pile of brussel spouts that need turning into shit.
… And that’s his job for seven years. Every seven years, each of the trillions of cells in your body will replace themselves, so this little anus cell will drop dead at work and a new one fills his boots silently and automatically on a continuous basis until you eventually drop dead.
We could all learn a thing or two from the Anus cell about efficiency at work.
DT
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A few years ago when I was working as a housing officer, I had a drunken tenant in a block of flats that was up all night causing the rest of the block sleepless nights. After several unsuccessful attempts at resolving the problem I decided to move him immediately or risk finding him lynched one morning. He wasn’t a bad bloke – just a repentant drunk who didn’t know what he was doing after two litres of cider. I don’t think anyone else would either! I had one available empty ground floor flat that was proving hard to occupy as the woman upstairs was a raving drunk. Voila! Two raving drunks who can’t remember a thing the next day. Perfect.
I moved him in and things went exactly as I thought they would, but with an added twist. They fell in love. It was an affair sponsored by Strongbow, and I don’t think either one of them knew the other one’s name. Then one day, the bloke dropped dead and I had the task of telling the woman upstairs that her brief love affair was over. Not only did she not believe me, but she carried on acting as if he was still alive, stuffing love letters through the letterbox and proclaiming her desire for him through the carpet at the flat downstairs.
The moral of the story is – the distinction between being dead and being dead drunk resides in the fact that even though you’re dead, there may still be someone who is dead drunk that wants to shag you. Don’t ever underestimate the power of beer goggles.
