Imagine a world without football? I know, it’s scary. But what’s even scarier is that the Premier League stars we know and love would all be searching for jobs like you and me. No scouts, youth academies or agents, just a good ole’ CV. In this column we provide insight into what those job applications would actually look like. This is ‘Premier League CVs’.
Jamie Richard Vardy
If it’s a party you’re after, then you’re in the right place. Let’s be honest, without me how is it possible? Trust me, anyone worth knowing north of Doncaster will tell you I’m you’re man. Raves, living it large, Ibiza mega-clubs; I can get you on any VIP list or organize the maddest stag do ever. Whatever you do though, just don’t chat shit. I ain’t got time for that bollocks.
Education:
3 GCSEs from Sheffield Steelworks High School
I’m not sure why I bothered with school in the first place, to be honest. I mean what can you learn in the classroom that you can’t from the street? I did alright at PE, coz I was rapid innit. It’s a bit grim around my way, so I had to be quick to get away from the grubby sods around me. Ah, bangin’ in the goals at break time, I ruled the playground… Exams? Ha ha, come back to me when you have something worthwhile to chat about.
Work Experience:
Glass collector, The Dog and Duck Pub, Sheffield
- Scrubbed the bar area
- Mopped up the vomit
- Did some part-time security work
PR manager, Oceana nightclub, Fleetwood
- Building up reputation
- Ran special events
- Designed promotional materials
Travel Agent, Thomas Cook, Leicester
- Specialised in Mediterranean breaks and stag weekends
- Organising weekend breaks across the continent’s finest cultural centres
- Club rep for summer stints
Notable Skills:
- No nonsense talk
- Speed
- Confidence
References:
- Nigel Pearson
- Claudio Ranieri
- David Guetta
Cover Letter:
To whom it may concern,
Be honest, you need some energy in your life. Everybody does, there’s no shame in that. Work getting a bit much? Lacking a certain spark? Bored of the same night out in the boozer? That’s where I come in. There ain’t nothing like a mad set of choons, and I know them better than anyone
I could never be doing with the poncy la-di-da privileged nonces who said ‘qualifications matter’ or some crap like that. What’s the point of living life without some excuse to splurge what little cash you have on a massive blowout at every opportunity. Exactly! Just because all my teachers told me otherwise was never going to stop me from pursuing the high life (and by high life, I think you know what I mean).
So my lack of exams may have counted against me to start with. Far from let it get me down, I just hung out at my favourite place. Alright, so there may have been fag ends from two years ago clogging to toilets, and the texture of the floor was not exactly smooth, but it was mash-up heaven. The lovely Albanian chaps in the corner were always on hand to sell people, ahem, encouragement for the night.
I didn’t mind grafting, but I soon realised I needed to move on to fulfill my ambitions. The lads were legends, but to be fair they weren’t likely to get much further. I packed my passport for the border crossing over the Pennines, but as it turned out I didn’t need it. Anyway, once I got there they actually had places with more than just a bar area – massive!
I saw an opportunity to get noticed. I used to have a better party than the punters even when I was working, so I thought I might as well make partying my job. Student nights were knocked out of the park, stag dos were mental, and it was all down to me.
I’m not one to denigrate my roots, but with all these euphoric tunes pouring out of the speakers it felt a bit weird. I mean pumping drum n’ bass is wicked, but when you stumble out onto a Lancashire street at three in the morning it kind of loses its appeal. A few offers from top-level brands came in, and eventually I went to Leicester. As everyone knows, if you can get off your face in the East Midlands, then you can do it anywhere.
PR work came naturally to me. None of this namby-pamby shite of ‘polieness’; people knew what they were getting with me. Pretty soon my parties were legendary, and we booked the biggest names in the business. I don’t know if anyone actually told Andrea Bocelli where he was, but man he still rocked the place for our incredible blowout a few years ago.
That’s the thing with the mad highs though: it’s so hard to make it the same again. I still love my life here, but I have a sneaking suspicion my talents might be used to greater effect abroad. Pretty much every doorman from Benidorm to Ayia Napa knows me well, and with my network of contacts in Amsterdam, Prague, Ibiza and beyond I could organise the wildest parties and stag weekends.
If you have had enough of the stiff suits around you, or are about to pass up your single life for good, get in touch. No time wasters though: Vardy Parties are more banging than a nunnery on acid. Trust me, I know what that is like… Just tag me at #chatshitgetbanged on twitter and hit me up.
Regards,
Jamie Richard Vardy
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