The boy Tony and me are going to see a man about a job tomorrow, and if all goes well, we could be getting back to work, for the first time in over five years.
And IF we find ourselves a job, it will be helping to build the Olympic Village, which will house athletes from all over the world, when the Olympic games come to London next year.
Of course, Tony and me don't have any experience in building things, but as Tony says, he's already bursting with pride knowing that he could be one of the men who help make the Olympic dream an occasion to remember, even if his only input is helping to build toilets for Ethiopian marathon runners.
I can only admire the boy's enthusiasm, but have reminded him that the work will involve working outside, in freezing and damp conditions, whilst leaving us very little time to indulge in our preferred pastime of drinking vast amounts of lager, eating cheeseburgers and swearing at tourists, when they refuse to buy us drinks.
But my fat friend says he understands the risks involved in working for a living, and he reckons that if it all goes terribly wrong, at least he can say that he gave it his best shot.
Personally, I'm not looking forward to tomorrow, because I prefer to spend Monday mornings in my bed, watching television, whilst planning just what I'm not going to do in the coming week.
Still, if our hard work means a few Ethiopians can go for a shit in a toilet, built with our own hands, instead of in a tin bucket, I'll be more than happy!