Everyone has a skill, whether it's cryptic crossword solving, large hadron colliding, or getting keys off keyrings really quickly (I thank you). For example, if you're really struggling, there's a 50% chance you can at least roll your tongue - for half the population can do it, and half cannot. As a matter of fact, I can't (to witness me trying is to gaze upon hilarity) so that means your odds are slightly better than evens. Give it a whirl.
If you hone your skills, and put in the 90% perspiration to back it up over several years, you could reach the apex of your craft - being wheeled out as an expert assistant on a reality TV show. You know who I mean - Nick & Margaret (the middle-aged Jordan and Peter) on the Apprentice, loveable leprachaun Louis Walsh on the X-Factor, and on Raymond Blanc's The Res'ron, sour-faced snoot Sarah Willingham. She likes to do a drawn-out, heavily critical number to camera about the potential res'ronteurs' cooking skills - heavily laced with unsavoury double entendres such as "I've got to swallow this now". She's entitled to, of course, 'cos she's an expert. That's why they get her clopping through the res'rons, and regularly film her getting out of a mid-range sports car. Except she's not an expert on cookery - she's an expert on retail. This is fine for the show - as Raymond will tell you, running a res'ron is as much about business as cooking, but maybe Willingham should be going through the books instead of scoffing over a lukewarm plate of coq au vin next week.
Of course, there once was a simpler time when being skilled didn't involve ability in a grown-up, probably hard subject like business or haute cuisine - back in the schoolyard, if you could do a Rubik's Cube in under ten minutes, you were the king of the county. Regrettably, I could only complete the cube with the use of a screwdriver, but The Netherlands' Erik Akkersdijk must be signing autographs in his playground - he's the Rubik's Cube world record holder, completing the cube in 7.08 seconds this year. I'll bet he can curl his tongue and whip up a mean lobster bisque as well.
Sadly, some of us are blessed with no skill whatsoever. What becomes of those with no abilities to share with the rest of humanity (I'd like to remind everyone that I can get keys off keyrings really fast - faster than 7.08 seconds on a good day)? Well, they could nab a hosting job on an unwatchable daytime quiz show, then start pretending they don't pay a TV Licence. If that doesn't work, there's always charitable organisations offering work placements for the talentless. That said, when I popped in there earlier tonight, the beef slinger (sorry, sales assistant) did demonstrate one skill. First offering to 'mix my McFlurry', before I could hit her with an umbrella in a fit of disgust, she proceeded to do just that, demonstrating that a McFlurry is so called because it is whisked up by a machine. Sarah Willingham would be rendered speechless.
If you hone your skills, and put in the 90% perspiration to back it up over several years, you could reach the apex of your craft - being wheeled out as an expert assistant on a reality TV show. You know who I mean - Nick & Margaret (the middle-aged Jordan and Peter) on the Apprentice, loveable leprachaun Louis Walsh on the X-Factor, and on Raymond Blanc's The Res'ron, sour-faced snoot Sarah Willingham. She likes to do a drawn-out, heavily critical number to camera about the potential res'ronteurs' cooking skills - heavily laced with unsavoury double entendres such as "I've got to swallow this now". She's entitled to, of course, 'cos she's an expert. That's why they get her clopping through the res'rons, and regularly film her getting out of a mid-range sports car. Except she's not an expert on cookery - she's an expert on retail. This is fine for the show - as Raymond will tell you, running a res'ron is as much about business as cooking, but maybe Willingham should be going through the books instead of scoffing over a lukewarm plate of coq au vin next week.
Of course, there once was a simpler time when being skilled didn't involve ability in a grown-up, probably hard subject like business or haute cuisine - back in the schoolyard, if you could do a Rubik's Cube in under ten minutes, you were the king of the county. Regrettably, I could only complete the cube with the use of a screwdriver, but The Netherlands' Erik Akkersdijk must be signing autographs in his playground - he's the Rubik's Cube world record holder, completing the cube in 7.08 seconds this year. I'll bet he can curl his tongue and whip up a mean lobster bisque as well.
Sadly, some of us are blessed with no skill whatsoever. What becomes of those with no abilities to share with the rest of humanity (I'd like to remind everyone that I can get keys off keyrings really fast - faster than 7.08 seconds on a good day)? Well, they could nab a hosting job on an unwatchable daytime quiz show, then start pretending they don't pay a TV Licence. If that doesn't work, there's always charitable organisations offering work placements for the talentless. That said, when I popped in there earlier tonight, the beef slinger (sorry, sales assistant) did demonstrate one skill. First offering to 'mix my McFlurry', before I could hit her with an umbrella in a fit of disgust, she proceeded to do just that, demonstrating that a McFlurry is so called because it is whisked up by a machine. Sarah Willingham would be rendered speechless.
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