It turns out that I'm among the first recruits for the Work Programme. If anyone wants to know what being a guinea pig is like, I might be able to tell you. Already I've set a record by being the first claimant to have done his initial assessment twice, though I have to confess, that's because the first one was mislaid.

"Things always go wrong when you're around." Observed one other claimant, a chap I remember seeing here and there over the last couple of years. He was one of my fellow forklift trainees so I suppose he does have some insight. Oh all, right, I admit it.

As with all things official, there followed a health and safety orientation. Someone was obviously paying attention. I notice they didn't have any oxygen masks hanging from the ceiling but then again the programme centre isn't the fastest way to travel to exotic holiday destinations. That's the trouble with health and safety orientations. Your mind is always elsewhere.

"Has everyone understood?" Our trainer asked. Questions? No-one told me there were going to be questions. Is this going to be on the test? She continued "What do you do if there's an accident?"

Umm... Well... I guess you scream, hold the injury, and rock gently back and forth with your eyes closed. How did I do?

Big Metal World

Whilst this was going on, the office boss hovered around his minions like a frantic bumble bee. Someone asked him something and he whinged that he'd been on the go since seven that morning, driving here and there.

Get a better car, I suggested helpfully. No-one should drive a car and feel it's a chore.

"Oh I like driving." He wearily responded, perhaps a little puzzled as to why a claimant was engaging a superior being in conversation.

What car do you drive?

"BMW." He announced. Well there you are. He's not driving a car to express his personality, or feed his petrol habit, or even thrill at the razor sharp handling and throttle response. It's all about the badge. He's driving a BMW saloon because he wants a badge of office, to express his oneness with the Ancient Order Of Management, and be known to all throughout the land as He Who Must Be Admired. The man has no individuality at all.

Owners Operation Manual

Haynes have been selling books on car maintenance for yonks plus ages. What an innovation that was at the time. Drivers freed from the tyranny of the roadside ornament, shown the arcane secrets of making a car start, and defying the sharp intake of breath from the garage mechanic.

As I sat in the library, I spotted a Haynes manual on the shelf. No suprise there - there's loads of them, mostly for makes and models that rusted away long ago when their owners chose foolishly chose not to purchase a Haynes manual. But this went from the sublime to the ridiculous. It was a manual for the RMS Titanic.

I must admit, I've never considered what a labour of love it must be to operate a transatlantic cruise liner. I mean, it's too big for a roadside recovery truck isn't it? Now anyone can maintain and drive their cruise liner secure in the knowledge they know what they're doing.

Is such a large vehicle a little bit showy? I mean, we moan and complain about all terrain trucks filling the roads when the the kids need transport to school, or when something extremely expensive blasts past us on motorways in the superstar lane. But sailing into your garage with a fog horn guaranteed to be heard in the next town isn't exactly being inconspicuous is it?

Look on the bright side. Although the turning circle is a little generous, and parking might prove difficult if not prohibitively expensive, there is literally tons of luggage space, and so many cup holders you really could invite your mates for a party. Ride quality is univerally recognised as the best there ever was.. Even better no-one's yet thought to put speed cameras on the ocean.

Trouble is, there aren't many Titanics out there. Not to worry. I happen to know there's one still on the market. One careless owner, needs new chassis, some rust. Perfect restoration project.