How much of a Homicidal Maniac are you?

Trucker, postal worker, delivery driver, or courier. My work involves lots of random, unmonitored travel and plenty of opportunities to meet strangers in remote locations.

Office job, food service, retail or entertainment. I spend my time in a secure environment, constantly within view of CCTV equipment.

Student, unemployed or part-time worker. When I'm not watching TV, I'm on Facebook posting funny things I saw or looking at cat videos on YouTube.

Managerial, or executive position in blue chip company. I have a tight schedule and go to lots of meetings with immaculately dressed people, where we watch a lot of powerpoint presentations.

...asleep or fighting over the bed-covers with a significant other.

...on Facebook, Youtube or Netflix, sometimes calculating the time you can still get some sleep before you have to be up later in the morning.

...at a poorly lit industrial lock-up, surrounded by a vast array of tools and chemical solvents.

...working on some reports, paperwork or a slideshow for a meeting you should have done last week.

Various stuff I haven't got round to lugging into the attic or garage.

Reels of black duct tape, a roll of thick, plastic sheeting, cloths and scrubbing brushes, a ten liter jug of bleach, and a roll-up tool-holder with an array of polished, gleaming serated-edged implements.

Nothing. My trunk is empty, hoovered and deoderised, or I don't have a car.

A pet basket, lots of chew-toys and blankets that smell of fur and stale pee.

I swear and honk my horn, or shout abuse out of my window.

In a fit of road rage, I follow the guy and cut him off so he has to stop. Then create an incident where somebody ends up calling the cops.

I calmly just let the guy in, perhaps with a disapproving tap of the horn.

I follow him home at a discrete distance, making a note of his address and taking photographs of him and his family members.

Not much, it's just a stretch of lawn with a flower bed, which we try to keep reasonably tidy.

It is well kept, but with large mounds of dirt from which dozens of flourishing tomato bushes grow.

I don't have a garden, or the one I have is basically an overgrown garbage heap where thorny weeds and nettles grow in huge bushes.

My garden is an immaculately manicured sheet of pure green, surrounded by tidy, fertilised strips of bedding where a beautiful variety of various exotic flowers and plants grow.

You had loving, caring parents who nurtured you in a secure environment, inspiring you to reach for your dreams and fulfill your full potential.

You lived a crappy neighbourhood, but your folks were mostly okay, although you frequently argued about stuff.

You just lived with my Mom/Dad/other relative, but there were a lot of other kids in the same situation who you could be friends with.

The teachers at your school kept sending you to people who asked questions about the pictures you were drawing. You may have secretly dissected roadkill or stolen medical textbooks from your local library.

I'm a big sports fan, talk about all manner of sporty stuff and like to impress peeople with my encyclopedic knowledge of historical sports statistics.

I'm a great big yadda-mouth, who just goes on and on about my squabbles with my significant other or how hard it is to get a date.

I like to discuss the philosophies of Nietzche, Jean Paul Sartre, Aleister Crowley and Anton Szandor LaVey and quote from biographies of famous historical tyrrants and their execution methods. I sometimes wonder out loud about the problems morticians might have with particularly disfigured or badly dismembered corpses.

Meh. Just whatever....

I dress in ordinary, everyday clothing of the type you would find mass-produced and sold in many outlets nationwide. I look like pretty much anyone else, not standing out in any way whatsoever.

I love fashion, and like to dress outrageously as a statement of youthful rebellion. I have peircings in places you never even realised they pierce.

I dress in expensive outfits, modern but conservative, at all times projecting an air of professionalism and sophistication.

Anything thing that I haven't already worn for three weeks, and isn't lying in stinking heaps about my bedroom floor.

I've been in a steady relationship for many years now with a significant other.

I have a string of bad marriages behind behind me, and relationships are usually stormy and short-lived, with frequent domestic breakages and property damage.

I spend my time on dating websites, Facebook, Twitter or adult chat-rooms, obsessing over and sometimes stalking pretty females who I would not stand a chance in hell with.

My unrealistically high standards and deep-rooted insecurity means I could never possibly be attracted to someobody who actually likes me.

I worry when my friends, family or pets get are unhappy or get sick. I like to be there for people.

I worry about the growing mountain of debt that my reckless spending habits have generated, and wonder if I'll ever get out of the whole I dug for myself without filing for bankruptcy.

I worry about leaving a stray hair of fleck of skin at particular places, and keep abreast of the news emerging from specific, but widely spread geographic areas.

I like to make a good impression at work and do a good job, so worry if I've upset work colleagues or fallen short in my performance review.