'Gizza Job'! I will be 46 years of age on St David's Day. I have been a Head of Drama in a tough, inner city secondary school, I have been a development officer for a Youth Organisation. I haven't worked in the 'traditional' model, you know labour in exchange for pay and taxes for six years. I have been a Benefit Scrounger since January 2006 when I was diagnosed with 'Bipolar Affective Disorder'.
This blog is my C.V.I don't have conventional referees unless you wish to contact my 'Occupational Therapist'.
Watching 'Boys from the Blackstuff' recently after thirty years I realised that Yosser Hughes was a man who was losing his mind. A man whose mental state was degenerating due to the circumstances he found himself in. Thatcher's Britain with obscene levels of unemployment. The behaviour he portrays in Yosser's story could be 'psychosis'. Lurching between fierce optimism and a catatonic state of depression. That far away, glazed look in the eye.
Thirty years on, we have yet another Conservative Government, and from the debris of the austerity cuts will grow another army of 'Yosser Hugheses'. Bashed from pillar to post by the Nazi Atos so that the comfy readers of the right wing newspapers can feel that their taxes are being used in the right way, ie to keep the underprivileged down.
There are men and women of my generation who have placed themselves by circumstance or choice outside the circus ring that is the reality of life in the UK today. Because we grew up with Thatcher, her policies and their effects have been ingrained on our sub-conscious. We cannot believe that History has repeated itself. We cannot believe that we have allowed it to happen. The Government is hoping that the August Riots of 2011 were a flash in the pan. Well they weren't! Those that can feel the vibe know that great anger and hurt is festering within the walls of Her Majesty's prisons. Give a critical mass of people enough time, to work out that they have been living off crumbs, in an unjust society and more unrest will follow. Guaranteed! And it won't be in another thirty years. It will be soon!
Gissa Job! Go on Gissa Job! I don't want just any old job. I want your job David Cameron!
Brilliant, David. I can't argue with one word of this. (Well, perhaps "affects" should read "effects" but that may just be a typo!)
ReplyDeleteWell done!
I find myself on the barricade with many other unemployed, rejected, disenfranchised and forgotten because I am over fifty and in the job market. And I don't recall Bridgend as a 'little fishing hamlet'. Rather it is a formerly-prosperous market town which has mutate and developed into a dormitory suburb of Cardiff. I do not remember the time I lived there with any fondness.
ReplyDeleteI lived in Cefn Cribwr from 1953 - 1962 and Bridgend was my nearest town. As Nick so rightly says, it was a prosperous market town in those days. I remember it with great affection, for its library, its lovely open air swimming pool, Newbridge fields and shops such as Struells, London House, George Lee's and of course, McAllisters. The old market was an Aladdin's Cave for us children and I still remember the delicious faggots and peas that were sold in the cafe there. Sadly, the town I remeber vanished long ago to be replaced with a town that could be located anywhere in the UK: same shops, same food chains and same bloody chewing gum all over the streets.
DeleteAffects has now been changed to effects Viv and you're right Nick Bridgend is no 'little fishing hamlet'. Your description is much more accurate. Thank you both for commenting.
ReplyDelete