I RECENTLY took delivery of a FutureScope 5000.
You won’t have seen one yet as they’ve yet to be invented, but basically it’s like a special television which lets you see the future. I won’t trouble you with the detail about how I got hold of it. This isn’t an episode of Doctor Who.
I can’t use the device for personal gain, to influence important future events or for any trivial purposes, which renders it fairly useless, so don’t ask me for Saturday’s lottery numbers. (I will tell you this, though. If you’re a football fan, don’t bother taking any holiday next May. And we never find out where they are in Lost.)
Anyway, I’ve just watched a broadcast from 2016, which I found quite instructive, and I’ll share it with you…
AN INTERVIEW ROOM. A PANEL OF THREE IS INTERVIEWING A MAN.
CHAIRMAN: Mr Dooley, we’ve read your CV, and it’s very impressive.
PANELLIST #1: Ooh, yes. Nicely set out. Very posh. Did you do it on a computer?
DOOLEY: Er, yes.
CHAIRMAN: And I think I speak for the panel when I say you come across well at interview. We’ve no doubt you can do the job.
CHAIRMAN: There’s just one thing. There is another candidate who is equally qualified who we’ve already seen. So I’m afraid we have to go to the statutory tie-breaker: who’s got the best wife?
CHAIRMAN: Yes, ever since the 2010 general election was decided by which candidate had the best wife, and the winner brought in a golden age of prosperity, the end of global warming and the retention of BBC Radio 6 Music, it’s been generally acknowledged as the most effective way to decide on the best man for the job.
PANELLIST #2: Or woman.
CHAIRMAN: Yes, very funny, Derek. As if! You did bring your wife, didn’t you?
DOOLEY: Of course. Just in case. Darling?
MRS DOOLEY WALKS IN.
CHAIRMAN: Very nice. Well turned out. Is that a tattoo?
DOOLEY: It is. But it’s a small tasteful one.
CHAIRMAN: A bit racy, but nothing too threatening, like pink fur-lined handcuffs. Ideal. Good. Mrs Dooley, tell us about your husband.
MRS DOOLEY: Oh, he’s ace. You should absolutely give him the job. He’d be good.
CHAIRMAN: Nice voice, posh but not too posh. Good. Any complaints about his conduct?
MRS DOOLEY: He works too hard, and he squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle.
CHAIRMAN: Excellent. The first part is a compliment thinly disguised as a criticism. The second humanises the candidate. This is top-notch stuff. What do you reckon?
PANELLIST #1: She’s got lovely shoes.
PANELLIST #2: I fancy her a bit. Not a lot, but more than the other one. She was a right sour-faced moo.
CHAIRMAN: She certainly was. Mr Dooley, the job’s yours. You’ve definitely got the best wife. Can I borrow her? I’m up for president of my golf club and my own wife is rubbish.
The broadcast ends there. I think we’ve learnt a valuable lesson: always do your CV on your computer as it looks nicer.