Two weeks ago I applied for a job – not an amazing job, but a decent one. Like a twat and a buffoon I got my hopes up. My hopes of having a job that wasn’t a trap, a dead end, a repetitive trudge where I’m lorded over by intellectual pygmies who are all confidence and no competence, and a total and utter waste of my life.

This evening the rejection came. I wouldn’t say I’d taken it badly, but according to my browser history about an hour ago I googled “I want to die”. I was fast-forwarding to how I’m going to feel on Monday morning knowing This Is The Way Your Life Has To Be For Ever And Fucking Ever, Better Luck Next Time Pal.

Only music can save me from thinking life if completely worthless. Please oblige me.