Jobs Miracle

Well it's official, it's one day short of 3 weeks to go before the General Election and I don't give a Flying F**k who wins any more. I wonder if I ever did. Like many, my default setting is anti-Tory because of their oppressive, suffocating tenure! It's Ground hog day here in West Wales. We've been here before. The only thing I could think when catching snatches of the 'challengers debate' while walking through the living room was how magnificent the Methodist Hall looked. It's going to be difficult to avoid until the day but the result on May 8th is going to be like an electoral ejaculation. An anti-climax. Who will be smoking the post coital cigarettes? (or cigars). The Tories are claiming today that there is a Jobs miracle. I haven't got one. I've applied for one, a part time one. I'm not sure if I want one. If I get it, I anticipate bursting into tears on my first day back because I equate work with imprisonment, suffocation, gasping for air. The first job I had after leaving college in Watford in 1985 with an OND in Printing Administration under my arm was selling print for a Polish Printer in Cefn Mawr near Wrexham. I had a dark blue Morris Minor and after 2 days walking around Llangollen in a dark blue suit, getting 1 order, I had a nervous breakdown and ended up in the Llandudno Medical Centre in North Wales under the expert care of Dr Dafydd Alun Jones. To be fair to the Printer, he sent the commission which was about £2.50 sellotaped to a piece of card. It is only by writing this now that I realise that I have an emotional link to work, a link of failure. Every kind of work I have done since then has either ended in failure or with me having another nervous breakdown. I have paid my taxes and you will be relieved to know that I am not claiming yours in benefit. The last time I checked I was on something called Working Tax Credits of £53.00 a week.  Yes I know, it's still public funds propping up the malingerers but don't blame me for the system. I have been moved and manipulated through the tenure of this Tory Government off the books, as have many others, in a far worse state than me. They can then claim that it's a miracle. A Jobs miracle. Look at these desperate 'self employed' people who haven't got a 'f*ck*ng clue' what they are doing. There are no new jobs. There are no jobs. There are activities on zero hours contracts which will pull your soul from within your carcass and put it through a mincer to make a beefburger. "Would you like Fries with that?" There are jobs that will require me to drive around the cities, towns and counties of this overpopulated, traffic choked land, blood boiling in a pressure cooker body with intrusive thoughts shadowing my every move. 
It's Friday. You're home from work. Don't let me spoil it for you. You have a weekend in which to gasp for air.