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>Was out and about today at the Royal Dublin Society >(RDS) which is, as we all probably know, a snobbish >reservation on the Southside of Dublin where the >horsey set usually congregate to rub fetlocks. > >A certain organisation had sent for me and 800 others >to sit a "written examination", the purpose of which >is to thin out applicants for an Administrative job. > >First-off, most of us arrived at 8.40 for the 9.30 >"registration", which consisted of us finding out >names and numbers on a list, the clerk checking that >we were identical to our photos, and sitting down on a >chair at a desk these latter items made for a dwarf. >An anorexic one at that. > >I guess the 9.30 start probably meant a 10.00 >examination, and so it proved to be. A tall, thin, >greying countryman made his way to the microphone and >said: > >"Nolph, welfome ebbly n. Nay zam doo ar. Irr s >NUMERICAL REASONING..." > >We nodded our comprehension at that part. > >"Ec e ape. Ple il ape ou." > >He looked around him. There must have been a few >puzzled faces down the back, because, to be sure (I >suppose), he said: > >"N est on?" > >There were none. > >Does anyone know why a painter would want to know why >he's five-elevenths of his way through the job after >three hours and thirty-five minutes?

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