Dear Mrs Rachel Vandenberg,
I am writing to apply for the position of “Uncle”, as advertised in the last family newsletter, “RE: OMG Jono and I are having a baby!!!”. I am enclosing a completed application form, resume, and those photos mum took when we were five of me shoving your face into a mound of dirt “for a joke”, just in case you’ve forgotten who I am. Below I have listed a few unique qualities I feel I can bring to the role, that I trust will become a compelling and hopefully essential part of your new family business.
I am related to you and have a penis
In my extensive research, I understand one of the most important things an uncle must possess is to be what’s known as a “brother”, and not in the cool way black people mean. As you can see from my attached CV, I have been gainfully employed as a brother since January 1979, when you came into the world and ruined everything. As I write this, a solitary tear descends down my left cheek thinking about all the Star Wars figures I was denied by relinquishing my only child status (Tie Fighter pilot, Han Solo Hoth fatigues, and Lobot to name but a few), and to this day I hold you personally responsible for sucking all the oxygen out of Christmas morning with your Strawberry Shortcake My Little Cabbage Patch Kid loving she-devil in diapers wah-wah arse. These small matters notwithstanding, I feel the extensive experience I have within this cornerstone portfolio makes me an exceptional candidate.
Sometimes I’m around, and sometimes I’m not
I lead a random and chaotic life, full of career upheaval, emotionally scarring u-turns, and life choices that could best be described as “puzzling, bordering on batshit mental”. While to some 35 may be considered quite young, I have the memory of a withering Alzheimer’s patient, and live my days hand to mouth, barely remembering what happened five minutes ago let alone five days. Though many potential employers may be somewhat off-put by a suite of such traits, surely there could be no better strings to an uncle’s bow than this motley assortment of wild, cavernous flaws. An uncle should be esoteric and illusive, full of wonder, uncertainty, and almost reckless irresponsibility. No one ever says to an uncle, “Can I just leave you to look after Jasper for a few hours”, and believes the task will be carried out without a cat being gaffa taped to a VCR by the end of it. No one ever says to an uncle, “Kirillee’s party is 2pm at the playground, make sure you pick up the cake with plenty of time to find a park” and doesn’t expect to get a KFC twelve-piece feed delivered to a bowling alley at half-six. The next day. If such a thing were ever to be expected of an uncle, I believe DOCS would have a raft of serious questions about your capacity for parenting in the first place. And to be honest, I’m amazed I’ve managed to successfully apply for this position at all. All I can hope is that I have given you an incorrect phone number or have somehow mistakenly faxed this to my mate Paul (NB: Paul doesn’t have a fax).
I have a few good drug stories, but not too many
Once a mate and I went to Amsterdam and got ripped off three times in twenty minutes trying to buy drugs off the street. And then there was this other time I had a hash cookie and thought I could control time by opening and closing my eyes. And this other time where a mate took mushrooms and thought the police were wizards trying to steal his source of power so he swallowed his gold ring and tried to swim away in a canal with only two inches of water in it. And… that’s about it. The point is, I doubt sex and drugs and rock and roll are going anywhere, and when this kid grows up you’re going to want to provide honest answers to tough questions without tarnishing your delicately crafted parental veneer. This is where you need a fall guy. Someone who’s spent years systematically eroding their shame as if it were some sort of Buddhist practice in letting go of decency. In short – an uncle. Sure, you might be able to muster up the stones to flitter over the birds and the bees talk, but in twenty years time birds and bees are going to be getting so freaky you’ll be fielding questions like, “Mummy, how can a bee give a bird a reach around without hurting its wing… and do bees really have fists?” Save yourself the hassle. Hire me, and the kid will be so scared from the walking talking cautionary tale sitting in front of them, that they’ll be chaperoning you on your monthly date night.
The likelihood of me ever getting my shit together enough to procreate is so low this could well be a job for life
Far be it for me to tell you how to suck eggs, but IMHO, the one thing you don’t want in a role like this are time wasters. You know the type. They dazzle you in the interview with their enthusiasm. Their eyes all starry with the mere thought of clutching the bottom rung of their dream ladder, and then… VOOM! They’re headhunted by the firm across town and all you’re left with is a mound of paperwork and all your trade secrets gone straight to the competition. There’s an old saying in the journalism game, “If a story sounds too good to be true, it probably is”. And as you may be able to tell, mine is in no danger of any such tantalising hoodwinkery. The chances of me being distracted by my own little bundle of joy are so slim that I’m willing to put the house I obviously don’t own on it never even coming close to eventuating. Sure, I may get distracted by shiny things and forget to show up to the christening, but at least you can rest assured that yours will always remain, the best offer.
I am proficient in Adobe Creative Suite and have a typing speed of 60 wpm
I’m not sure if this is really relevant, but wanted to add it in just in case.
And finally, on a personal note, might I just say how pleased I am to hear that you and Jonathan have decided to employ the stork method for the conception of your first-born. Such a rare and might I say brave thing for a couple to do these days. I believe stork technology has come a long way since our parents definitely certainly no really la la la la la I’m not listening la la la la la used it to bring you and I into the world. In this sex-obsessed age, it is heartening for an older brother to go about his life with the delightfully delusional knowledge that his angelic little sister is having no part in such filth.
Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to speaking with you soon at Dad’s birthday dinner about this overwhelmingly exciting employment opportunity. Ps – Do I owe you money for Dad’s present, and if so, what did we get him?