The boy Tony has got a real spring in his step at the moment, since he discovered that our local fast-food restaurant is looking for enthusiastic, determined and motivated individuals, to join its fast-track trainee management scheme.
The last time I saw him this happy is when he beat his own personal drinking record, by downing nineteen pints of lager in an evening, before crashing to the floor in the middle of our favourite pub.
However, whilst Tony reckons that him and fast-food restaurants were made for each other, and that "motivation" is his middle name, I can't see a glittering career for him as a trainee manager at our local burger bar.
Tony says that I'm just a man who lacks vision and drive, but I replied that I'm a man with a very good memory, and that I recall as if it was only yesterday when he got a job serving pizzas at our local pizzeria.
Sadly, because of his violent temper and need to drink on the job, a request for "extra mushrooms and spicy sausage" from a very rude customer was all that was required for my obese friend to leap over the counter and beat the poor, unsuspecting customer senseless.
Needless to say, Tony's career in pizzas came to sudden end, as the magistrate the following day sentenced him to three months behind bars for assault and violence.
The boy knows that I'm right, but says that every now and then even people like us can have a dream, and think about bettering ourselves.
I told the fat bastard that I agree with him, and as this very moment in time I'm dreaming of going to the pub to get absolutely hammered!