Now I don't mean to be too generalising here - plenty of Irish beaches are extremely difficult to guard, and lifeguards at beaches along the West coast earn every cent they make - but Killiney Beach could be lifeguarded by a chimp trained to point out Bono of U2's house.
And if you look to your left, you can see Enya's cas- *screeches* *flings poo*
The duties of a lifeguard on Killiney Beach:
- Open the hut at 11:50. Recoil at the stench of mould and unwashed gear. Open shutters as a token gesture.
- Drag the "End of Patrol Zone" signs to either end of the patrol zone. Patrons like to look at these while swimming 50 metres away on the wrong side of them.
- Tie the flagpole onto the railings. Studiously ignore the empty Blue Flag* pole, which is twice the size of the pole in use, and can actually be seen from the entire beach and car park.
- Put on the kettle. This stage is crucial.
- Seal the door against the rain. Silently thank the gods that someone wants to pay you for this job.
*Blue Flag is a quality standard. If you have it, you have very high quality swimming water. Killiney has this standard, but when it rains - most of the time - run-off from the surrounding area takes the standard below Blue Flag, but well within national limits.
These main duties can be supplemented by such activities as: cooking an elaborate a meal as you can with one saucepan on a battered relic of a cooker, rock juggling, reading the increasingly-less relevant newspaper that was bought on the first day, or seeing how much tea the human body can take before it supernovas into a being of pure caffeine.
Yesterday, a grand total of three swimmers entered the water over the course of six hours. The most exciting event of the day was a man walking a big dog, picking up said dog's...leavings in a piece of seaweed, and casting them seaward. While I was in the water swimming. He then attempted to exchange pleasantries with the two lifeguards at the hut. Finally, he loaded his massive balls into a wheelbarrow and headed back to the car park.
Seriously though, I could be wearing a paper hat and flipping burgers, a job an untrained chimp could probably do, and the guys I work with are great craic. I just like to complain.
In other news, I'm going along to an open extras casting for a TV series called "Camelot".
Quoting Monty Python? I'm sorry sir, we're going to have to return you your virginity
Once again, I'll leave you with an epic tune.
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