He Who Strives

He Who Strives

HEIGH HO/HI HO, IT'S OFF TO WORK WE GO.....

Had quite a problem with the title of this one.
Wikipedia is down due to some sort of industrial action, probably because of unionised Trots whingeing about their pensions, or freedom of speech.
Managed to Google 'Heigh Ho' and 'Hi Ho', and spent the past three hours counting the amount of results.
I think it's fair to say that 'Heigh Ho' is used by those of us who went to school, and 'Hi Ho' is used by the work-shy YouTube generation.
I will be using 'Heigh Ho' (over 3 million search results) forthwith.

I was at dinner with a bright young filly last year, who managed to persuade me that I should 'appeal' Personal Adviser Lowestoft-John's decision that I was 'fit for work'. It was fairly obvious that this young lady was a pinko, and that she'd never read any other paper than The Guardian in her life, but I gave it some thought whilst ogling her ample cleavage, and thought; if I don't test their capabilities, how can they test mine?

I'd heard several horror stories about people appealing, and subsequently dying, but I wasn't ready to shuffle any coils just yet; not with the prospect of Lowestoft-John finding me a suitable position as a wine-taster/food critic within the year.

So 'appeal' I did, and imagine my delight at receiving an incredibly prompt reply yesterday, from those DWP lackeys Atos, on the very day Dave, IDS and Ed Millitant were discussing the Welfare Reform Bill.
I left the weighty package unopened whilst I caught up on world news with the Mail Online.
Couldn't help feeling rather sorry for old friends Brigadier Giles Rowntree and Lieutenant-Colonel Crawley having to take early retirement, mainly due to that do-gooding Lumley woman. I suppose they'll still direct the odd military campaign from their conservatories in OxShott or Bagshot or wherever it is? (It's not Aldershot - marvellous town now overrun by unemployed Nepalese - terrible business).

So after my mid-morning G&T, I nervously embarked on reading the missive from JobCentrePlus in Belfast, hoping upon hope that they wouldn't put me back on the sick-pay.
I needn't have worried.
My Approved Disabilty Analyst Lesley had found me more than capable for work "and cannot see any reason to change the original decision given".
Luckily I hadn't really given them any reasons.
I listed my medications, attached a letter from my GP, explained how I can always be a little stiff on certain mornings (but this did not stop me enjoying fine wines & restaurant food!)and how I was hopeful that Lowestoft-John would find me a suitable employer very soon.

The rather sad news was that they had now moved the goalposts with regard to when I could start work.
Lesley said "I advise that a return to work could be considered within 18months".
This disappointed me somewhat.
It's obvious that I won't be considered for the Olympic Long-Jump judge now.
I'm unlikely to get the horse-groom job at Her Majesty's Diamond Jubbly celebrations neither.

The 33 page 'findings' (what is it with the Public Sector and trees?) did however highlight things that weren't wrong with me, and I found this reassuring coming from a designated government official.

I AM NOT likely to die within 6 months due to my chronic illness.
As I am male, pregnancy is NOT relevant.
I do NOT have a stoma, or serious problems with evacuating or voiding my bladder or bowels.
And I do NOT have a cognitive impairment or mental disorder that could lead to aggression in the workplace, or have difficulty in chewing or swallowing independently.

With that clean bill of health, I began my letters of application (cc;d of course to Lowestoft-John!).
I started with "Dear Mr Worrall-Thompson......"

R.I.P KIM

Father rang.
Turns out they've increased his Winter Fuel Payment, despite his persistent asking that they didn't.
His argument is that anyone geographically below the M4 motorway requires less heat than that grim northern lot, primarily due to lower winter temperatures, but more specifically due to voting choice.
The WFP was not something we voted for.
Blair and his chamois-socialist lot brought that little sweetener in, and a fat lot of good it did them!

Father has received countless Xmas cards from ex-members of the 49th Armoured Division this year, and it transpires that they also have had an increase in their WFP, despite living it up in Nicosia & Gib!
Tommo, Degsy, Trev and Barry have all agreed to pool their payments, and stick on a bally big beach party around the time of the next General Election.

I too received my annual £10 Xmas bonus from the DWP, but couldn't find anything in Waitrose for under a ruddy tenner, so I sunk a few shandies in the British Legion, and wrote a stern letter to IDS.

The way I see it (and I'm sure Pa would agree), with Iran getting all defensive over its natural resources, and this new fella in charge of what was quite a well organised bunch of Korean chaps, I couldn't help think that if all 2million of us on ESA gave our tenner back to HMG, we could invest in a early warning system, or at least a small tank?
We are all in this together, but it would appear that some of us are a little more privileged than others, at this special time of year.
Crack-dealers & Greggs must be rubbing their hands with glee.

Glad to see Dave is bringing marriage back into fashion.
'Moral neutrality or passive tolerance' won't get this constipated economy running again.
A bloody big bible in every school might do the job though!
Very much looking forward to the Compulsory Church Attendance Bill next spring.

Still no word from Lowestoft John, my Personal Adviser.
Probably has a month off over Xmas to work out how much more pension he's going to get (less WFP and Xmas bonus).

And RIP Kim.
At least you had the decency to go at a sensible age, like most Great Leaders.
No one likes a drain on the state.
There's only so much golf a pensioner can play.

Happy New Year Dwile Flonkers.

IT'S TIME FOR A LEADERSHIP CHANGE

It's Wednesday, and that means only one thing.
Half-day closing.

As per usual, I donned my Hush Puppies and set about hobbling down to the Beccles & District Museum, to avail myself of my weekly fix; the majesty and beauty of the 1632 Shadingfield altar cloth.

And if you've been listening to Radio FiveLive's intelligent wall-to-wall commentary, interspersed with 'Sport, Weather & Travel' every ten minutes, you'll probably have no problem guessing what happened next?
The bally museum was closed!

And why?
Because some snivelling little Trot has politicised the part-time voluntary workers into a collective expression of their dissatisfaction at the hard work that Dave, IDS and Vinny Cable have done over the past 18months.

Pensions?!
They're already in receipt of their bloody pensions, and have been spending them quite happily in the post-office. the garden centre and Rosie's Tearooms for many years!
Like me, most of them will be dead before most NQTs get their first school department.
It's the feckless 'Want Want Want' generation again, stealing eye-pods and helping themselves to EMUs and tuition fees.

I'm all for gay rugby players 'coming out' to the Daily Mail on days like these, but this sort of gerrymandering will only lead to civil unrest, and an overall confusion with regard to museum opening hours.

It's madness.
Bring back Norman Tebbit and hunting with dogs.

Ruddy pinkos.