On not wanting to be second in command of Al-Qaeda
Every now and then, you spot a situation vacant on the Guardian Jobs website that raises an eyebrow, and no matter how happy you are in your present post, prompts you to blow the dust off your little-used CV.
However, after fixing my raised eyebrow, I've decided that I don't want to be second in command of Al-Qaeda.
Granted, it's a job for life with a superb pension scheme, but as far as this post goes, "life" is measured in a matter of minutes before getting a Hellfire missile in the face.
This happens at least twice a week, and they're getting through second in commands of Al-Qaeda like nobody's business.
Frankly, that's not the kind of job security one wants, even if all the second in command of Al-Qaeda does is organise the gardening and gets the sandwiches in for the current big boss. So I'm told.
Second in command of Al-Qaeda is therefore the worst job in the world.
I'd rather pull lobsters out of Jayne Mansfield's arse.
Or sell double glazing.
Or be third in command of Al-Qaeda