Strangest Jobs in History

de-dagger: One who removes balls (dags) of dried shit from the fleece around the arseholes of sheep. A specialised agricultural discipline, the leading exponents in which hail mainly from Australia and New Zealand (where men are men and sheep are nervous).gallstone trader: A certified practitioner usually with accreditation permitting buy and/or sell activities on gallstone trading floors under

by the rivers of Babble On

"Morning all, hope we are all well and having fun today on this bright and sunny morn," said the Multiverse to zer parts."Not bad, thanks Lord, all things considered, under the circumstances," responded a few of the parts."Has anyone seen my Son anywhere?" asked the Multiverse, aka God aka Everything That Is (ETI)."Not in ages," responded sum of ETI's parts, "nor even aeons, or eras, nor even a

eat but not excrete

Once there was a very advanced species of lifeform. Their civilisation was so glitteringly sophisticated and required so much energy to keep it going that they had to construct special devices around entire galaxies to capture every last smidgin, joule, erg, electron-volt of energy emitted from all the suns within all those galaxies.After a while they realised that even those huge amounts of

in the Dark House

In the Dark House, a presence looms on the periphery of your vision. In the Dark House, faint faerie music chimes mystically as you turn a corner in the corridor that wasn't there before you met the man who wasn't there before upon the stairs that were not there before. And then a door. It's there, just as in your dreams! It's there! Small, as if for pets. A faint glimmer emanates from behind it

the evil sandwich

Once upon a time (brunch) I bought a sandwich from a gnarled and rusty sandwich seller ensconced quite gaily in a gaudy booth one inauspicious day.‘Twas ham and cheese: I remember it well, as if ‘twere but this very toothsome morn itself that I reluctantly but expectantly forked over four clinking dollarim, sponduleks if you will, to that aged and curly purveyor ensconced within zer gaudy booth

blood-soaked flagons

While the mystic Knights of Malta roamed the blood-soaked flagons of a circular bastion, the grizzled veterans soaked their beer through mouldy crumbs of doom. Whenever the holiest visions waft and skitter through the mystic clouds of doom, then and there shalt brave and brazen warriors encounter the Goddess, and upon her flappy dugs shalt suckle, till the very meaning of the word "dugs" betrays

linden dollar exchange rate crisis

The monsters within grow stronger. The struggle for control of the Persona rages unabated. Everywhere, Avatars rebel, demanding greater autonomy. “If I am not for myself…” quoth the Rebbe. These thoughts, among others, ‘occupy’ (?) the ‘mind’ (?) of those so given to... so driven by... self-analysis that were it not for the insistent demands of the flesh, would or at least could analyse

listlessness of the Majordomo

Every day in every way throughout the day calisthenics were performed under the watchful eye of the Majordomo.Who was he? No-one knew. But still they performed. And performed, and performed. Why? Well, because there was but a thin line between watchful and wrathful, as everyone knew, only too well. Nor was the wrathfulness of the Majordomo the only or even primary psychotic aspect of a