“How Many More Fucking Years Of This Bullshit?” Contemplates Man On Commute To Work

IT WAS another routine morning for local man Eoin Carmody as he contemplated the years of soul-crushing work ahead of him all while his nostrils were nestled in the armpit of a fellow Luas passenger and prisoner on the rush hour commute.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket and accessing the calculator app, the 33-year-old worked out that it was just another 1,716 weeks of work until his retirement before forgetting that was assuming he would retire at 66, which knowing the pulverising weight of the profit-hungry machine of capitalism, was not very likely.

“Round up to 2,000,” Carmody said to himself, his heart breaking at the idea of the years ahead of him stuck in data management.

“Whatever the fuck data management is,” added Carmody, now laughing at the sick joke that is his meaningless career in the middle of a largely meaningless life.

Not sure if the unease bubbling away underneath his skin will result in him spontaneously bursting into a flood of tears or simply Googling ‘most effective way to flatten an office block’, Carmody made a mental note to come down with a 24 hour bug tomorrow which would allow him a full day off to be sick of this bullshit but in the comfort of his own home.

“Hah, well at least I’m not that guy, he looks fucking miserable!” said Carmody of a fellow commuter that he immediately realised was his face reflected back at him through the carriage window.

Suddenly aware of how his looping thoughts were unhelpful, Carmody vowed to cheer himself up later this evening with a take away and a wank.