Artist: orange

This afternoon I washed, dried and ironed one white shirt, one pair of black trousers, and one black tie. I polished my nice shoes. Then, at half past 6 in the evening, I carefully packed all of these items into my backpack, bade farewell to my darling mother, and cycled into town. I parked my bike, then went to the pub. I had some dinner, a few beers, read the paper, did the crossword, and got home around 11.

This is how I pretend to have a job. If my thin tissue of lies falls apart, and my elaborate scheme is exposed, I don't know whether to expect a severely age-inappropriate spanking or a pat on the back for being such a clever, if devious, little shit.

I tell my dear Ma and Pa that I am working as a waiter at my local university; I'd already worked there for a spell last year, and a few times at Christmas, so I could easily convince my parents that the boss had invited me back again to work in the university holidays. Sounded very plausible. They bought it.

To convince my nearest and dearest* that I am in real, bonafide employment, I knocked up a timetable so that they would know exactly when I'd be out of the house and wouldn't become suspicious. It is imperative that I stick to these designated hours, rather than play it adhoc - no one is going to be convinced that I just happen to be on the afternoon shift the day after a heavy night of drinking (writing this, it is 2:30am and I had quite a few drinks last night. I've also told my mum I start at 9am tomorrow. I oversleep at the expense of blowing my cover).

The key advantage of making this timetable is choosing your own "hours". This will only be the case if your fake job is in the service industry, not for the standard 9 to 5 racket. Once you've chosen your hours, voila! enjoy your "shifts" any way you please. I for one, go to the pub a lot, as I did last night. In my daytime "shifts" I go to the gym, go swimming, or generally laze about with friends and enjoy summer. Summer was meant to be enjoyed, after all; not squandered in some stuffy office or serving crappy food to cantankerous academics.

Most importantly, I study. What price would I put on my future academic (and professional) career? Certainly not the paltry few quid I might make from a summer job.

The downside of merely pretending to have a job, is of course not actually earning any money. If you can deal with that, or have a nifty stash that'll see you through the summer anyway, then who the hell cares? Besides, no fool will work for money when their student loan covers all debauchery-incurred expenses.