Swimming with sharks

I always expected that by this time in life, I'd be swimming with dolphins. I was training at university to become a marine biologist.
Well that never happened, did it?
I took a holiday job at a little newspaper and got hooked.
I suppose I can blame the chief reporter there. Despite all he had been through -- too much booze, late nights, broken marriage, too much black pudding and cigarettes -- you couldn't help but be swept up with the adrenalin rush he obviously got anytime he got the scent of a good story. It was contagious. Lots of lows, but lots of highs too -- and I decided this was the life for me.
So here I am: chief political correspondent for the Daily Lemonsuck, swimming with sharks rather than Flipper.
People say: how can you possibly work with pollies, as if they were lepers? Unclean, unclean.
I say: I didn't choose this job, it chose me.
And I didn't elect the pollies. You voted for them, I just follow them around with a bucket and spade and analyse what they leave behind.