13th November 2012
I feel terribly guilty today and I feel the need to confess. My CFS is proving to be very symptomatic today (I’m sure you remember me mentioning yesterday that I was feeling unwell) and because I am having to make an effort to breathe I am actually sitting on my sofa under a blanket with Jeremy Kyle playing in the background with my eyes twitching. You can imagine how much this is upsetting me, since all of those other people on Incapacity Benefit really are faking it and I hate to think of them laughing at all of the tax payers whose contributions go directly into those scrounger’s pockets. (I KNOW, Dave, that you and your team would never dream of spending tax payers’ money on frivolous things like X Boxes and alcohol.)
The main thing I wanted to write to you about today though is this whole housing benefit thing. Bravo, Dave, because quite frankly no one under the age of 25 should be eligible for it. I myself was married by the age of 23 and had my first child at the age of 24, and I would have loved to have spent the first couple of years of my married life and motherhood living at my Mother’s house. (As it happens, I actually bought my first house at the age of 20, so have never claimed housing benefit before, but that’s not the point at all.) Thinking about it longer term, too, the parents who hope that their children move out earlier than the age of 30 will simply have to leave their children with someone else and get off their lazy behinds and get a job in order to save for a deposit for their bundle of joy.
This is an excellent idea as not only will it mean that said children will have an incentive to get onto the property market, but it also means that the vast number of jobs at the moment which have absolutely no applicants at all may finally be filled. There is a huge surplus of jobs in the UK at the moment and no one to fill them, after all. I say let the lazy mothers do them.
If only I weren’t disabled I would be out there right now taking as many jobs as I possibly could, as the idea of Indigo and Logan still living here when they are already in steady relationships and thinking of planning a family in twenty years is frankly quite appalling. Given, however, that there is no way I will be able to fund them through university I’m hoping they take a job at McDonalds as soon as they gain their BaccalaureateCertificates and get on with it. It’s a shame, in ways, since Indigo is at the very highest reading level in her entire year despite being the youngest child in the class, and several teachers have expressed hopes that she go into writing one day. I on the other hand sincerely hope that she knuckles down and does something useful, perhaps writing instructional manuals or typing letters for someone. Fingers crossed, Dave!