The Joys of not Working in Ireland.

The Joys of not Working in Ireland.

Where the fuck do I start? I havent been in Ireland for a few months now, simply because I couldn’t bare the thought of having to deal with their ill mannered and brutish ways, so I along with a “transsexual” friend of mine decided to take a chance and try some different pastures. Why, because the very thought of having to deal with another Irish cheesy cock, and shitty arse left me loosing the very will to live, as it did my friend.

The mere mention of returning to Ireland to tour will cause her to pout and tears to fill those sweet little blue eyes. It has indeed been delightful to find someone who shares my views. Oh, the hours spent bashing the Irish clientele. Joys in abundance. If I thought bashing them before was fun, when you have a direct comparison by with which to work with oh dear god, do you start to notice the differences in the clientele.

When coming out of working in ireland, you almost have to go and get reprogrammed. Seriously, because of having to deal with what can only be classed as some of the most impolite punters on the planet. You tend to develop a rather harsh phone manner, not only that, you start to realise that shouting abuse down the line was a normal part of communicating directions to clients. Basically you treated all the clients the same, more as criminals first to be vetted and then allowed access. Not taking calls from with held numbers, or texts, or land lines. Not done in Ireland. You make those bastards jump through hoops, multiple ones, because the nice client one day could come back and rob you the next.

So, off we went. Taking a chance and casting our nets further afield. The first thing I noticed, the amount of phones calls dropped drastically, so much so I started to panic. I Worried that my ads weren’t up correctly. I started to call my own phone. My ads were fine, the difference was, clients call when interested and are looking to make a booking. They are not just amusing themselves at the expense of a hooker, because they are bored, and have nothing else to do. They call, are polite, and to the point. If you are not to their taste, they don’t waste your time with a fake booking, they say thank you and politely ring off. I frankly wasn’t used to this.

So off we went, first place we landed was the south east of England. This took some adjusting, as in I had to get used to clients who had a clue, turned up on time, and pissed off after services were rendered. Sweet Jesus, I had found punter nirvana. They arrived on time, were clean, some were even shaved! My god what was this creature before me, punctual, clean, shaved nether regions, and quick and to the point? It tilted my world on its axis. It really made me realise how dysfunctional, abnormal and hairy, the Irish punter was. How seriously disturbed the whole place is, and how I was just working too bloody hard!

I had security measure in place that would make MI5/6 take note. I stopped short of collecting DNA samples, and cataloguing them. Yes I made money, loads, but my god I was starting to lose a certain degree of my humanity. It was becoming more and more difficult to muster the energy to plan a tour, much less actually go to the country. I was beginning to get depressed. But all that is over now. I am truly a horribly happy hooker. Why, because I don’t have to work only in Ireland anymore. I can choose to add it into my tour rotation if I have nothing better to do, and I want to vent frustrations on the unsightly asses of the group of grovelling slaves who keep begging me to return. Oh my cup does runneth over with the image of Ireland in my rear view mirror. Oh the joy, I want to skip and run and jump at the very though that I need not rely on only Ireland for my source of income.

A few other things have began to happen as well, the most amazing thing is I am actually pleasant on the phone to clients. I blow them little kisses, and have a little chat and flirt with them on the phone. You can’t bloody do this in Ireland, you would have your line tied up with some idiot thinking you were engaged because you we’re nice on the phone. I no longer shout abuse down the line at clients who are too stupid to follow the simplest of directions, I no longer cringe at the sight of unwashed pubic hair. In fact, I truly enjoy my job now, really look forward to visiting the various places in England. The accents alone are amazing and the delightful quirkiness of the inhabitants in various places do make me laugh. And now I know that all those jokes the English have about the Irish are so true.

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