Moan

I am accustomed to not having work. Happens to me every so many years, usually when someone has found out that I'm taking money off them for basically sitting around on my arse waiting for things to go wrong.

Anyway. There's a slump on, apparently. Don't know, don't care.

Now. I need to sort out some work. This involves getting in my car which is fortunately taxed at the moment, and going to see someone a way away.

This means I need fuel for the car. Or train fare and exorbitant car parking charges, so car it is.

£40 worth of diesel.

I know that most of this is £40 is yummy tax for the government. And I know that they will spend it wisely, perhaps on living allowance for a disabled person, perhaps to give someone who's really hard-up some money for food.

Anything else they spend it on is bollocks. A high-speed train, yacht for Her Maj, salary for themselves, contribution to the EU, help for the starving in Africa. All bollocks.

Because *I* need it. Not want, need.

And I'm not buying fags/beer/cleaning services/stationery with it. This is not a luxury. I don't take for granted the heated office I come into each day, paid for by taxpayers, and the allowances you MPs get. None of that.

So Africa, the EU, MPs, the Queen and the train can all fuck right off. Then come back, so they can fuck off again.

And so, I'm afraid, can the poor and the disabled. Because right now, *I* need it. And you're not having it.

And that, friends, is how the fuck it is.

I'm off to rob a petrol station.

Fuck you. And no, I'm not reducing myself to claiming "benefits", as you laughing call it. I'll die first.

Cunts.