Five new jobs that will be available Post Brexit
Five new jobs you can have post-Brexit
Finding a job can be hell. You spend hours upon hours filling out applications the length of War and Peace, have nothing but asinine daytime television to keep you company, and barely a day goes by without the Daily Mail running a hit-piece personally attacking you as a ‘scrounger’ who will stop at nothing in their quest to leech off the British taxpayer.
Even those with a 9 to 5 look at the future of employment with increasing trepidation: the rise of artificial intelligence will put swathes of unskilled workers out of a job and once we force machines to work in customer service positions, lead to a robot uprising. The gig economy and zero-hours contracts leaves employees in a permanent state of anxiety they’ll have to work for Deliveroo or JDSports. Brexit fears have caused foreign companies to write strongly-worded open letters to the government pleading they change course, instead of cajoling them behind closed doors with a cheeky bribe like the good old days.
Even though MPs voted to rule out a no-deal Brexit, it may still happen. Why? Because fuck you. Sure, a no-deal Brexit could lead to stockpiling, huge border delays, and the rapture - letting gammons ascend to heaven whilst the Earth cracks open and swallows up all the remoaners - but remember that every cloud has a silver lining.
Don’t think about all the jobs that will be lost under a so-called ‘nightmare’ Brexit scenario, think about all the new jobs that will become available! Here are five of the exciting positions that will become available after 29th March - or whenever we eventually leave:
I think I’d make a pretty good bootlegger. Swanning around wearing Levi Strauss jeans, a faded leather jacket, and Ray-Ban aviators, complete with a toothpick, I’d look cool as hell. Find me something which wouldn’t need smuggling across the English Channel once we leave the EU: insulin, holiday goers, artisan French cheese, you name it. I’ll traffic it. It’s not about breaking the law, it’s not even about helping the sick access life-saving medicine and yada yada yada, it’s about looking - and being - awesome.
Just picture the scene. I’m driving up the Calais border checkpoint in my Ford Model T, maybe I’m feeling spicy and wearing a cowboy hat. Border patrol waves me to stop as they sense someone as cool as me must be breaking the law. I roll down the window.
“Good afternoon officers” I say, chewing on my toothpick. “What seems to be the problem?”
“We’ve had a tip you’re smuggling Dutch tulips and cannabis across the border, sir” one of the officials sternly replies, trying to stare me down through my shades.
“Is that right?” I remark, before lightly chuckling.
“Do you really think we don’t know who you are?” the official asks, adjusting his expression into a slight frown in the reflection of my sunglasses, “you’re Sam the truffle hog”
“I didn’t choose that nickname” I cut in.
“Sam the truffle hog” the official repeated, his voice quivering before he regained his nerve, “they say you can sniff out any tariff-protected item a British man could want - even if it was buried underground in the mud, like a truffle hog.”
“Yeah, I understand the metaphor”
“I heard you snuck 120 kegs of Guinness across the Irish border” he continued “I heard you shot dead one of your competitors in the VIP area of a Dover nightclub. I heard you put a hit out on one of my colleagues after he busted one of your shipments of Belgian chocolates and a very important client of yours wasn’t too happy with you.”
“My my officer, those are some wonderful stories.” I reply, smirking, “but maybe if you put your fiction career on hold for five minutes and did your job, you’d realise that’s all they are, stories.” I step out of the car and gesture towards it with my hands: “she’s all yours, boys.”
Fifteen minutes later, having exhausted every nook and cranny of the car’s interior in their search of contraband, the customs official looks at me with a mix of anger and frustration.
“Is there a problem?” I ask with the subtle hint of mockery that pushes him over the edge.
“I’ll get you one day!” explodes the official, “I know you’re guilty, truffle hog! With enough scrubbing away at the filthy surface, even scum as tough as you will become unstuck!”
“Rembrandt, what the hell are you doing?!” I turn around to see the booming voice of the border officer’s superior. She turned to speak to me; “is my goods inspector harassing you?”
“No madame, not at all.” I say calmly. “Though perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to give some of your team a quick lesson in anger management.”
I stroll over to my vehicle and hop into the drivers’ seat, making sure to catch Rembrandt’s eye and flash him a quick smile as I drove away. Once my Model T was loaded onto the ferry and I waltzed up to the deck, I began to laugh to myself. They’d failed to find my cargo hidden in the tyres once again.
Tell me you don’t want that life for yourself.
Corrupt Border Official
Do you really think I’m going to take the chance and let customs officials search my vehicle in the woefully unimaginative fantasy I just laid out for you in the previous section? Hell no. The tyres is the first place they’ll look - haven’t you seen Narcos? I would have paid them off on day one, they’ll be corrupt as FIFA officials. And you could be too!
According to the National Careers Service, a Border Force officer can expect to make between £23,000 and £31,000 a year before bribes; just imagine what a lucrative career you could have! Plus, it’s a great way of making contacts in the criminal underworld which prove to be invaluable if you ever decide to branch out and become a corrupt bureaucrat for local government, the civil service, police force.
Pro-European Guerrilla Leader
If the right-wing media of this country is to be believed, the EU is a super-state hellbent on stripping us of our sovereignty. A cursory Google search should be enough to illustrate my point. But if the Europeans are imperialist as The Daily Express says they are, they won’t let us leave their European empire quietly. No, they’d go full America/Soviet (delete as appropriate) on us and fund an all-out guerrilla movement to try and topple the pro-Brexit government and install a pro-Remain one in its place.
As job opportunities go, becoming a leader of Pro-European guerrilla forces ticks a lot of boxes. You’ll have a job you’re truly passionate about. You’ll get to see the great British countryside as your squadron travel from town to town evading the army. You’ll get to meet many like-minded political extremists like yourself. Hypothetically, it’s a win-win: if the uprising is unsuccessful and you die, you’ll go down in history as a martyr, whereas if you overthrow the government, you’re guaranteed future employment as a member of the new ruling political elite.
Trade Deal Negotiator
Do you like Settlers of Catan? Are you familiar with bartering? Do you enjoy smacking the table and shouting “Are you taking this seriously at all?! I swear to God if you keep wasting my time, I am out of here!” in response to reasonable requests? Then you may like to consider a career as a trade deal negotiator!
At the time of writing, the UK has finalised precisely 0 post-Brexit trade deals. The EU currently has 40 trade agreements with over 70 countries. Evidently, there’ll be ample demand for slick, ex double glazing salesmen with cockney accents and greased back hair to start drawing up new agreements on behalf of the country. Sadly, that trope is dying out, so I can’t see why they wouldn’t take normies like you as well.
Who wouldn’t want to trade with us post-Brexit? We have all the sheep! How is Europe going to buy any development cards if they don’t trade with us? Checkmate, Brussels.
No previous job experience required.