Diary of a Wellington Inspector

Wellington boots in a garden with plants in them

Here is a new edition to our Specials section. A day in the life (ten thousand holes in Blackburn Lancashire) of Mr. Fred Fredson, who works as a Wellington Inspector on a part-time basis at the premises of The Sun newspaper.

Now anyone with a half-functioning brain knows The Sun is read by people who are below even the rapidly disintegrating Professional Moron level.

Here are two well known facts about The Sun and its readers:

  • The Sun caters for people who think Page 3 (as we are a family website Professional Moron can’t explain what this is) is in every magazine, newspaper or book available. When Sun readers discover this is not the case they begin to froth at the mouth and garble “Murdoch you son of a bitch!” as they die a hideous death.
  • As Sun readers tend not to read books or magazines (due to their lack of intelligence and staggering ignorance), the death toll has actually been remarkably small—four since 1970. It was discovered they had purchased a different newspaper as The Sun had not been available. Due to this the government drafted in a new legislation (called The 1984 Stupid Dickhead Act) which provides surplus amounts of The Sun papers to avoid any further casualties.

Wellington Diaries

Mr. Fredson has worked in his position since 1990. A brief overview of his regular duties are:

  • Making sure wellingtons are worn on wet days (he’ll explain all further below).
  • Inspecting wellingtons.
  • Cleaning wellingtons.
  • Advertising wellingtons.

Please welcome, Mr. Fredson, and thank him kindly for this thrilling insight into his life! Oh and, by the way, this was a telephone interview. It’s written here verbatim.

“I only work part time, me, because it often don’t rain. When it don’t rain I don’t go in the office. The office is in London. The office is a good office t’work at cos there’s like these plush coffee machines where you can get a coffee for, like, 30p. If you want milk and sugar it’s, like, 40p. Some posh people get tea or cappuccino or whatever. I like me coffee, me. When it rains I has to go in cos The Sun, where I work, me, has a “Wellington” policy where everyone has to wear wellingtons so the floor doesn’t get too wet. It don’t seem to work cos the floor still gets muddy and wet.

But it don’t matter cos it’s me job and I need it so I does it, me. There is some rules I have to make sure everyone does. One is to make sure everyone wears wellingtons when it rains. Two is to inspect the wellingtons for mud. If there is mud I scrape it off with me mud scraper, which is called the Wellington Mud Scraper. It is curved and silver, made out of steel or summit. It works quite well as a mud scraper, I think. People get angry with me cos, in the morning, there’s a big queue outside the building cos I have to check everyone’s wellingtons. I been called some bad names which I won’t says hear. When everyone is inside I stand outside The Sun with a big sign which says different stuff like, Wellington Sale and that. It’s a way of getting extra advertising for The Sun, I think, me, but I don’t know.

Whilst this is goin’ on I has to keep an eye on me mud scraper so no one nicks it. At lunch break when I’m in people have taken to stayin’ in so they don’t have to deal with me. It don’t make me feel popular. But they have to get by me at the end of the day, but some of them make a mad dash for it. I usually quite keep up on all of them, so I keeps a ‘bad list’ of them I didn’t see so I can catch up with them the next time I’m in. The end of the day is dead busy for me, I has to dash about with me mud scraper well quick an’ get as many folk seen as I can. It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. I will retire in 2015. My wage is £2,000.”

Dispense with some gibberish!

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