This Dude Gets Paid To Have Sex With Prostitutes, And I’m Updating My Resume

Meet ‘John’. A 60 year old divorced man who is tasked with the labor intensive job of having sex with prostitutes in Sydney, Australia. For money. So if you’re scoring at home, this dude gets to blow a wad of semen and receive a wad of cash simultaneously. That’s why he preferred his face not be shown, because we’d hunt him down.

John is a licensed private investigator whose sole responsibility is to “gather evidence” about illegal brothels by posing as a customer. This is like saying “drugs are bad” right before chomping on an eighth of mushrooms. The irony is just overwhelming.

And he knows we’re fucking jealous:

I’m sure plenty of fellas would be a bit envious of how I’m earning a bit of pocket money from time to time. But I’m being paid to do something most people pay good money for. More often than not though, it’s just a handjob. It’s not your typical nine-to-five, Monday-to-Friday job. There are no time constraints, and there’s never been a stage where I’ve felt threatened or worried about my safety.

The job opening was created after the Hornsby Council lost a legal battle against a massage parlour which costed them $100,000. Apparently, they didn’t provide adequate sexual evidence that would define the parlours as ‘brothels’. And that’s when they brought in the Hammer. John was up against some STIFF competition for the job, namely every fucking straight man on the planet.

John says he considers himself lucky to be in such a line of work, which is the most insultingly obvious statement I’ve heard since the last girl I hooked up with said I had a small penis. He only goes undercover on the job once every three weeks, which is 20 times fewer than we would in that time period.

The silver lining in this for all of us is that John is 60 years old and we gotta question how long that pecker’s going to be producing for. Unless he starts eating spider bananas, then we’re pigeonholed to a long life of jerking off.

Don’t be a Brett Favre, John. Hang it up before we all hate you more than we already do.

Matt Keohan Avatar
Matt’s love of writing was born during a sixth grade assembly when it was announced that his essay titled “Why Drugs Are Bad” had taken first prize in D.A.R.E.’s grade-wide contest. The anti-drug people gave him a $50 savings bond for his brave contribution to crime-fighting, and upon the bond’s maturity 10 years later, he used it to buy his very first bag of marijuana.