Poor old Tony. Two days of hard work in four years and he's already had enough. I've told him that he's got nothing to be ashamed of, and some people around here haven't worked since they left school. We're off to the pub tonight to celebrate his re-entry into the world of unemployment, and he reckons that he's going to drink the place dry.
Of course, as he says, if all the fucking immigrants hadn't taken the decent jobs, he might have something better to look forward to. I told him that being English just doesn't mean a thing any more, and that if you're eastern european, you're bound to fall on your feet over here.
After the pub we'll probably go for a cheeseburger, as apart from strong lager, it's the only thing that keeps Tony sane. God bless America for our meal tonight, and as Tony says, moving furniture for a living is okay, but a man of his talents could probably do a lot better.