Flower of my heart,
Oh, darling, can you forgive me for how long it’s been? The Computer God (Our Hard Drive, which art internal, Volume C by name, thy code be clean, thy fonts be seen, on screen as they are on paper etc) has continued to be rather unkind to me, and don’t even get me started on the half blindness.
I hear that our Georgie is at it again and wants to bring in more cuts. Bloody marvellous! I particularly like the possibility of Housing Benefit being cut for under-25s. Honestly, in the prime of their lives, sitting around watching Jeremy Kyle all day. If they want to do that they should stay home with their Mums and stop being such a drain on society. Presuming they have Mums. Failing that, they should all go and move into one of those millions of spare bedrooms that people have been so selfishly collecting over the years. What a f**king liberty!
Only last week I read about a rather ungrateful 28-year old mother of a disabled girl who couldn’t walk or talk who had been told that she now needed to pay £570 per year in bedroom tax, (sorry, I meant ‘spare room subsidy’) for her child’s specially modified sensory room or lose her home. Personally, I don’t see the problem. Clear out the room of all those flashing lights and ghastly plastic balls, move in some young striver who will pay proper rent, and keep the kid in the corner of some other room. I mean, it’s not like she’d be able to complain! Plus, the mother would still be able to claim benefits for that child. So as long as she can keep her alive, she’d be laughing. Win/win!
Oh, and by the way, congratulations to your hairdresser for being awarded an MBE for ‘services to hairdressing’. How wonderfully yay! I didn’t even know that was a ‘thing’! Does that mean I can award my daughter an award for services to Lego? Or could I have one for services to ‘PM morale’? He may have sorted out your parting darling, but you know I could do a lot more than that for you.
Send a car when you can, poppet.