I was sat at a set of traffic lights in the car last Saturday. Just me and the 6 year old. Whenever it's just us two, i'm always happy to dispense a more X rated level of fatherly advice. Although the school he goes to doesn't have an official religion, he's always asking me Christian orientated questions like, "How many animals were on the ark?" and "Did Jesus come back to life?" My wife reckons that there's nothing wrong with a bit of Christianity-lite but I have to be true to my own principles and always answer as honestly as I can, conversing via the rear view mirror. "There was no ark, son" "Miss Whalley says there was." "She's wrong" "You're wrong" "What've I told you before?" "You're right about everything" "Correct" "But what about the ark?" "I'll tell you son, they've scoured Mount Ararat and they've never found a fcuking donkey skeleton, never mind an ark." Just as we were going to start going round in circles, a couple of mounted coppers tootled up on their horses. The religion conversation stopped as my lad had a good gawp at the rich brown fudge coming from one of the horses arrses. "Why do they have police on horses, dad" "I'm not sure, but it's got to be the number one dossy job on the planet" "What's a dossy job?" "That which we all seek, son." Are there any equally dossy jobs? Your a Manchester based mounted copper. All your mates are chasing sh-itbags round the estates in cars and on foot, always in danger, up to their necks in crims of various sorts. Your contribution? Bimble round town in your black jodphurs, stopping occasionally to wink at yummy-mummies while their kids pat your horse. Every now and again, go down to Old Trafford or the Boo Camp and let your nag drop pancakes onto unsuspecting matchgoers. Seems like a good number. Do any of our resident boys in blue have an opinion? Can any arrsers think of other jobs, they've casually envied? We've been using cherrypickers for the last year. They always come supplied with a suitably dim-witted operator, who literally does fcuk-all once he's set the picker up. I had the same guy for 6 weeks at one stage. Every single day, he'd turn up, set the beast up, then read an Auto-mart for 8 hours. So if someone asked him in the pub what job he did, he'd have to say, "I'm a proof reader for Auto-mart" Lucky, dossy-job-doing c-unt. I WANT A DOSSY JOB.