...yes, honest...according to the
daily wellygraph, our beloved
secretary of hate is furiously fanning the flames of revolution right under his own backside...well i suppose everyone claiming benefits knew
that already - they just didn't realize he was doing so deliberately, as part of some weird ritualistic
auto-da-fé; in fact, rumours are rampant in parliament that he hasn't trimmed his twin tufts for a good fortnight, and is not planning to visit his exclusive gentlemen's barbers until his hair reaches down to his shoulders...
...and frankly it's not hard to imagine that, during those dull interludes between wanking wildly over the latest benefit-savings figures, he's probably busy designing pro-active websites like
boycott workfare - which, i have to admit, is really rather professional, not-to-mention extremely helpful...
...obviously if there
is a revolution, mr smith will be the first minister down to the barricades with his antique shot-gun, humanely putting angry hungry rioters out of their misery...thus cutting down unemployment expenditure and conveniently rescuing the country from the reds in the run-up to a general election which he and his mates have otherwise done everything conceivably possible to lose...
...naturally, having ballsed-up the
work programme (leaving a lingering legacy which may cost the government billions of pounds in court-costs and bureaucracy as civil servants struggle to re-imburse the thousands of britons who have been illegally deprived of their jobseeker's allowance), and having also been caught wilfully stamping on the souls of the poor by incompassionately targeting the disabled and elder-generations with a spare-box-room tax, the redoubtable mr smith is now desperately seeking to impress the non-benefit-claiming taxpayer by waging war on
immigrants claiming welfare - despite the fact that:
- neither immigrants nor students wish to travel to a country which has no job-prospects.
- immigration will probably be negligible by 2015 due to the interminable recession.
- non-benefit-claiming taxpayers (even the racist ones) do not give a hoot who gets their benefits cut, just so long as someone gets clobbered, with a resultant reduction in general taxation - although, knowing our greedy self-aggrandizing governments, the non-benefit-paying tax-payers may be in for a bit of a nasty shock on that account...
...i suppose mr smith could additionally be trying cynically to curry favour with non-immigrant non-taxpaying benefit-claimants, but the
secretary of hate's belligerent dogmatism towards welfare claimants has almost certainly already ensured that almost every briton who has ever claimed a benefit, ever, will now be allergic to the conservative party for all time...
...and so whilst we cheer on this obsessive sado-masochist as he strides cockily toward the electoral guillotine over the corpses of the too-low-born-to-be-bothered-with, let us ponder one final philosophical gem which he has bountifully granted us at tax-payers' expense - namely mr smith's assertion that the mandated members of our british workfare-force are not '
real slaves' such as those in third-world countries permanently indentured to poverty by the neo-colonialist policies of
his greedy and oppressive government...
...perhaps then mr smith would care to enlighten us as to what shade of 'slaves' these unpaid workfarers actually belong? imaginary slaves? metaphysical slaves? purely hypothetical slaves?
...and i presume moreover that mr smith would be unconditionally thrilled to authorize the participation of his own dear children in this politically patent non-slavery...for say, two years...in a beef-burger processing-plant...or some other such industrial pillar of the community...
...on-the-other-hand, if this anti-migration minister and his multi-national chums get their wicked
old culturally-discriminative way and are permitted to promote their 'free-market' of compartmentalized national prisons, an altogether more meet experience of the duncan smith reality-game-show would be to spend life chained to a romanian slaughterhouse, for a pittance...
...good grief, one
truly wonders whether mr iain lock-down smith appreciates the traditional permeating process through which the human race came to inhabit these insignificant little islands in the first place...?
2 comments:
and there was done unto the people of a far flung continent a gross historical wrong, and after the course of many centuries, the descendants of those long-passed enslaved souls, whom in spiritual solidarity with their ancestors shall collectively be named the wronged-uns, did arrive in force upon the shores of the historical wrong-doer's isle of no-quidland in search of manifold job-opportunities, and finding as they did that those promised job-opportunities were largely and wholy immaterial, the wronged-uns did converge upon locally convened job-centres for to register their claims for unemployment compensation, but lo, a nob-headed descendant of the original wrong-doers did stretch himself to his fullest authoritarian stature in order to declare that thenceforth the jobless descendants of the wronged-uns must work for the state of no-quidland, without negotiable pay, for the duration of the great and glorious job-free recession, and the descendants of the wronged-uns did say unto the nob-headed descendant of the original wrong-doers, "up yours cocker", and did proceed, without further ado, unto the innermost sacred heartland of no-quidland to a place known as swankbourne, and with gold transported from the distant motherland of wronged-uns, did make legal purchase of the manorial demesne of lord nob-head descendant of the original wrong-doers, and in their own voluntary time, with their own voluntary labour, and without any manner of corporate coercion, nor any recourse to public funds whatsoever, did commence gradually and faithfully for to construct upon that exclusive expanse of hallowed turf one almighty fuck-off memorial ziggurat of sighs, full three thousand cubits in height and nine thousand cubits in breadth, utilizing but giant slabs of purest darkest black granite ferried most solemnly from the motherland of wronged-uns, laid one-upon-the-other, each separate monolith forming a poignant physical representation of a single long-lostwronged ancestral spirit, such that the immense ethereal edifice did tower tall toward the heavens, imposing itself over the surrounding verdant vale of aylesburgh thus to form a final befitting berth for all wronged-uns, ever, and to mark, furthermore, an officially sanctioned site of international homage for the benefit of contemporary descendants of wronged-uns the world over - who would so reach unto that deeply held yet highly regarded sanctuarial spot via either a handy little station-interchange on the nearby high-speed rail-link, or a specially-rolled-out eight-lane spur of gleaming tarmac off the m1 motorway, or alternatively via the newly developed third-london-airport established with due respect to indigenous ecology in the adjacent buckinghamshire pastureland. amen.
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