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.

I HAVE A PERSONAL ADVISER!

On the very day that my appeal period ceased, I received a letter from the DWP informing me that I have an interview with my Personal Adviser next week!
The efficiency of the DWP Capability For Work system is ruddy awe-inspiring!
Well done IDS. Well done C&C. Well done JobCentrePlus.

My Personal Adviser's name is 'John' (as in Osborne or Bull).
I was rather hoping I'd be assigned a young filly, because like it or not, I tend to make more of my physical appearance with regard to the ladies.
But I tapped in 'DWP, Personal Adviser, John' into my personal computer's search engine 'Images' gizmo, and I was pleasantly surprised.
In the photo, I'm not sure which one is John, but both of them look like the sort of go-getting, action type that I crave, and neither of them has a moustache, which I'm finding unappealing on both of the sexes at the moment.

Inspired by Victoria Derbyshire's telephone-in (this morning she is inviting work-shy layabouts to explain why they can't find work), I set about creating an action-plan for next Monday.

I have to get to Lowestoft, so in order to avoid being jiggled, jolted & bruised by the commoners on the X2 bus, I've decided to book into a hotel the night before.
Unfortunately, most hotels on the east coast are closed for the season now, but I was assured by the receptionist at the 'Moon in the Spoon' that I could have a room with a disabled toilet AND coffee-making facilities.
I didn't ask her for a quote, as the DWP have offered to pay all expenses to ensure prompt arrival at appointments. They also offer childcare expenses, but the poorly wife doesn't qualify as a 'child under the age of one' as such, so she'll just have to wait until I get home if she wants her bedpan emptying.
She won't do much in 24hrs.

John wants to discuss all the available job opportunities in the area and which ones would be more suited to me;
about returning to college/university to retrain, 'Permitted Work' (which sounds interesting!) and tax-credits for all of my children.
And if John can't help me, he can then arrange another appointment for me with a Disability Employment Adviser, presumably because the advising that John specialises in, isn't anything to do with jobs or disability.

I have to say that I'm excited about all this.
Xmas really does seem to have come early this year!
But I'm aware that excitement or stress can bring on a flare-up, and I don't want to ruin what seems like the ultimate opportunity to finally get me back to work.

As a consequence, I will be taking a slumber-cocktail of amitriptyline, distalgesics, anti-inflammatories, methotrexate and fluoxetine, and retiring to my bed until Sunday evening.
The wife can do her own bedpan for a bit.
It'll be good training.

Goodnight All!


NEXT WEEK:

Would a hard-labour renaissance be a better incentive for petty-criminals?
and
Why ban smoking in cars when the car itself is the real enemy of asthma?