Six months ago I signed on the dole. Or Job Seekers Allowance as our politically correct Govt call it.
Little do they know, when you turn up at the Job Centre (JC) waving the little magic form they’ve given you that allows you access to the desks beyond the “reception desk”, the maitre d asks if you’ve come to “sign on”. That toff, Iain Duncan Smith (IDS) should visit a Job Centre once in a while; unannounced obvs, and see what it’s really like. Not all Job Centre’s (well mine is a Job Centre Plus, whatever that is) smell of fresh paint and have bunting.
Tomorrow is my last signing on day and thereafter I’m on my own. I’m entitled to nothing. Nada. Niet. Nuffink. Not a sausage. Well I can go and get a sausage, but I will get no money toward it. I have to pay for my own sausage.
After six months the £70 per week job seekers allowance is stopped and it then becomes means tested. Seeing as I have in excess of £25 million in the bank, then I don’t suppose I’ll qualify for any further help. But that can’t be right can it?
I’ll have to ask my mate IDS the next time I see him on the golf course. Just before I let the people who really do need the Govt’s support, the chance to bludgeon him; with his own golf clubs natch.
Note; I don’t have £25 million in the bank. And I don’t belong to a golf club. And I’ve never met IDS, but if i do he’ll be sporting the verbal equivalent of a nine iron.
IDS and JC are interchangable.