JOB LOT

Recently completing the census form reminded my of the hours which I've spent looking at old census records to trace my ancestors.

Back in Victorian times there were only a few questions to answer which were basically your name, your age, your job and whether or not you were an imbecile.

Apparently in the last census, a number of people declared their religion as Jedi from the Star Wars series. They were joking of course but in Victorian times, declaring yourself to be Batman wouldn't have raised an eyebrow. It would simply mean that you were an aide to an army officer. Likewise, stating that you were Vulcan, (the Roman god of war), would inform the world that you were a blacksmith by trade.

There was a much wider range of occupations back in 1891 when the census was completed as listed here. Some of these sounded very strange. A Schrimpschonger for instance was someone who carved in bone or ivory. A Qwylwryghte was just a weird spelling for a wheelwright.

Some were not what they sounded like. A drummer for instance, was not an ancestor of Ringo Starr but was a travelling salesman. A streaker did not strip off and then do a runner but instead they stripped off a dead body to prepare them for burial. The bogie man didn't go around scaring small children but actually shoved wagons around by coal mines.

Then there were the just plain funny names. A knockknobbler was a dog catcher. What do you imagine a Badgy Fiddler was? I bet you didn't come up with him being a boy trumpeter in the military. How about a Slubber Doffer? I'l put you out of your misery. It was a person who removed bobbins from spindles on a loom.

I'll leave you with one to investigate. What was a Vaginarius? I can tell you that what he did had nothing to do with ladies bits.

WORST JOB EVER ?

I confess to being a bit of a foodie. I like to dine out a lot. Luckily, my wife shares my interest. In the better restaurants they often have the cooking area on show. This gives the customer a feeling of confidence in the hygiene and in the food quality of the establishment. But in addition to that it usually starts me thinking about how glad I am that I'm not a chef. As I see them toiling away in all that heat, I am very thankful that they chose to do the job and I'm very appreciative of the outcome!

Being a chef is not the worst job in the world though. I am also grateful to the many other people who have chosen to do jobs which I directly benefit from but which I would never want to do myself.

Lets consider a few examples. The guys who collect my refuse - working with rubbish all day surely can't be too pleasant! My dentist is well paid but in my view he deserves it. Just think about doing a job where you stare down people's mouths all day and no doubt suffer the effects of the bad breath many of them will have. Then there are the toilet cleaners who have worked hard to ensure that my visits to the Gentlemen's loo are as pleasant as possible. We've all cleaned our own toilets but there's a big difference when you're cleaning them after strangers have used them.

This started me thinking deeper about what are the worst jobs ever. I considered people who work in the fish industry. I know that the smell of fish can seep into your very pores and give you a social problem! Then I thought of sewer workers and how they are so necessary but are a level lower in job satisfaction than the toilet cleaners since they deal directly with the waste matter and maybe even with rats.

I was getting really curious now so took to the Internet which suggested various possibilities to fill the 'worst job' title. How about working in a blue cheese factory? As with fish, this must surely destroy your sense of smell as your body puts up aroma defences in earnest. Then there was the poor guy who told of his job cleaning chicken shit off eggs. No, on reflection, I think I could do that job because you can wear protective gear to distance yourself from the guano.

Then I found it. OMG! This has to take the biscuit. The worst job ever was here in front of me. Ladies and Gentlemen, I invite you to apply for the position of....wait for it.....Flatulence Analyst ! I kid you not! Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to bend down so your nose is by someone's backside and then ask them to fart! You proceed by breathing in their fart and making notes on your smell experience which will be used in the study of farts as an indicator of intestinal problems. No, I won't be applying.

Yet somehow, I suspect that you dear reader, will come up with something even worse in your comments!