XVI - A Cup O' Kindness Yet (Part I)

I have utterly loathed 2013. It's been a horrid year filled with horrid events, horrid people and horrid occasions. I'll give the Devil his due: It's continued fighting until the bitter end.

Today, I had to attend the Jobcentre in order to claim travel expenses. Now, I can hear the heart attacks of every English person over 60 who is gasping "W-W-WHAT?! B-BUT H-H-HE'S ON THE D-D-D-DOLE!! HE C-C-C-CAN'T GET A-A-A-ANYMORE M-M-M-MONEY!!!" but rest assured that the bus service in this region is utterly awful and the cost increases at a whim, so I bloody need it. Unless there's anyone under 60 who fancies feeding me for free and paying my lodge money?

I digress. So I had to go in to claim travel expenses. Simple enough task, I thought.

When I got there, my usual Advisor wasn't there. What a shock. So I was given another Advisor, also called Wendy.

What followed was another one of those things which makes me look at the Jobcentre Plus, tilt my head, and go "Why the fuck do you even exist again?".

There was zero clue as to what to do, mostly because we never set out working hours. I could be working 9 til 5 Monday to Friday, I could be working 9 til 1 somedays and 1 til 5 the next, or I could be working 3 days out of 7 (Work Experience usually is only 25-30 hours per week. But, thanks to the economic state of Britain and the ConDem Government, a company can step over that mark, and it's not like the worker can complain. Not only is it all they've got, but they complain and that's one less reference to use. The Government won't care. They've become like our Monarchy: Pretending that it has supreme power, but is ultimately a shell and all power is just posturing. Just look at how Amazon, Google and Starbucks laughed in their faces.), but we don't know. It was never set out by anyone. 

For reference, I was told these things are USUALLY set out. Well, in Redcar at least, apparently, where the Advisors work with the businesses to set out the hours a work experience volunteer (Intern?) is to work, so that they can fit in "signing on" around the working hours.

Not for me, apparently. This gives me the utmost confidence in the JCP. Well, it gives me the utmost confidence that they'll end up violently screwing me somewhere down the line.

So, I'm stuck without a clue on that. For my travel expenses, we worked nothing out. They can either pay me in advance, or I can claim them retrospectively. I brought up that I may be getting a lift down to the place of work somedays, so they immediately suggested claiming it retrospectively.

Then they told me its best to wait til Tuesday when I sign on so we can figure something out.

"But i'll be at work experience, won't I?"

"Ah."

Honestly, the most underwhelming, worrying word in the English language is "Ah." It's a monosyllabic utterance that indicates someones either about to be extraordinarily screwed, or someonone/something has been completely and utterly screwed up. When Genghis Khan Horde's rampaged through Eastern Europe, i'm betting you that the last word uttered by every knight seeing an arrow fly towards them was "Ah." (Followed by "AGGGGHHHHHHH!!!") When Stalin had dissidents taken to Gulags, the last words they probably said was "Ah." When Britain managed to vote in the Tories despite their track records, I like to think we all sat back and went "....Ah."

It's a horrid word. And it got me.

What followed was verbal wrestling and jostling.

It's safe to say neither of us knew what the hell was going on. I assumed JCP would work with a potential employer to work out signing on days. I'm sure they assumed it would be sorted out by magic from the magical JCP pixies. Needless to say, even my signing on day is in doubt. I was basically told "Well, on Thursday, talk to your employer and see what's going on."

That was my plan anyway, but I assumed the JCP, having basically signed my rights and two months of my life to a prospective employer, would lift a finger.

So, Thursday should be fun. After all, i'm sure if you run a business, the first thing you want to hear from a volunteer is "Uh, I might not be able to work one day, cause I have to sign on." Either way, all they did was give me a number to phone (A THIRD adviser. Not even my usual adviser or the adviser I got today. That's good fucking business.) in case the shit hits the fan.

Sad but true. I need my dole. I've got lodge to pay, i've got food to buy, and if i'm working 9 til 5, Monday to Friday (For the record, I assume these'll be my working hours.), i'd like to think I wasn't doing it for nothing.

And here lies the entire problem:

It's not exactly something I can turn my nose up at. If i'm working Monday-Friday 9 til 5 for my fortnightly benefits, then that is what i'm doing. I have no choice. If i'm working for FREE, I have no choice. If I walk in every night of the weekday, lie in the entrance passageway, and slowly die, I have no choice.

Thanks to Britain.

Employment here in the North East is grim enough, that finding someone who would even take one goddamn chance with me was a battle that took several months. I can't turn down doing unpaid work for this company, because it's all i've got. I can't run to the Police or the Jobcentre complaining about my "rights" (Which I have minimal of thanks to ConDem bureaucracy.) , because all I have is my TEFL to turn to, and I can't spend the next several months sitting around, looking lost. 

This work experience is needed. If TEFL ever ends up not being for me, then this chance, this shot, is all i've got. I NEED the reference on my CV, and I need the experience. Even if i'm slaving away, it's what I need. It's all i've got. I can't turn around and go somewhere else, because there's nowhere else to go.

That is the grim reality of Middlesbrough, and I will forever rue the day I was born in such a place.

It's all I have. It's all I've got.

When I opened this blog, I said that I hoped it would have a happy ending. Consider this work experience a microcosm preview: Will there be a happy ending? Or will I be laying down until the end of February in the entrance passageway, slowly dying?

I guess we'll see.

Happy New Year.

XV - 2013 Go Home

It's been a busy and somewhat turbulent month. Christmas has been and gone, and sucked up my bank account in the maelstrom (Mostly in thanks to my half-brother who won't stop breeding, and young nephews and nieces tend not to understand the words "Uncle Phil is on the dole."), I've recently told my ex (That backstabbing braggart of a harlot.) to get the hell away from me, and if I ever see her again, I'll vomit bile onto her shoes (Which is slightly more polite than what I threatened her new boyfriend with, who gave me a nice little message regarding me and his new girlfriend. Let's just say that if we ever cross paths when there isn't an ocean separating us, I'll have a necklace made from the teeth and ear-chunks of a fat Cajun bastard.) and my sciatica has been playing up, a lovely little condition which has kept me in a state of suspended pain.

However, I'll start off 2014 in work experience.

For those who don't know, the Work Experience Scheme is another flagship Coalition scheme, put forward by the ConDem Government, that comes from the same branch and same school of thought as workfare (Which is a bid to stop dole scroungers..scrounging dole for nothing. The idea, on paper, is brilliant: You don't earn it for nothing. At any time, mostly from 6 months after joining (For the record, this is my 4th month of claiming), the JCP can and will find an employer who will offer work for you.). The Work Experience Scheme, however, is for 18-24 year olds without recent work experience: Perfect for me. 2-8 week placements of 25-30 hours a week.

The catch is that the work you do is completely unpaid for, save for your dole.

To explain: I was called at the end of the November, and referred an opportunity. I took it and attended an interview with a short task to complete. I completed the task. I was told I would be phoned back the same or following day. I wasn't. Attending the Job Centre afterwards, they said that I did have the placement, and phoned up the company to confirm that I do have the placement, and that I "impressed". This was worrying for me, because if I really did impress, where was the phonecall or e-mail? Either way, I start at a local web content company on the 2nd of January, until the 28th of February.

Though I can apparently drop out without fear of sanction (Apparently), there really is no other choice for me. Although i'll be doing up to 30 hours unpaid (Save for my dole. So it's not really unpaid.) and have no idea as to what the employer will do with me, this company is the only company that has bothered giving me a second look.

It's still in the same branch as workfare: Unpaid work, paid travel but no paid lunch. And, of course, will I get a job at the end of it?

As readers of this blog may know, whether I get a job or not at the end of it, isn't the be-all and end-all. In all fairness, I'm not expecting to get a job at the end of it. For me, I have always believed this recession to be a golden time for employers and a time of hell for employees. Face it: You're a small company, operating in an upmarket area, would YOU take someone else on if you could pick up the phone and offer to take on another dole-earning sap and have them work for free?

And for people like me, we have no choice. We work, or we get sanctioned. And keep in mind, I'm living with my parents here. Imagine what it's like for single parents or those with bills to pay. It's hard enough running an entire household when you have the JCP breathing down your neck, and 30 hours of unpaid work to fulfil. And if you've got children, that's even worse.

I'm lucky.

I am, don't get me wrong, excited to get this opportunity. The area is one of the few places left in Middlesbrough which DOESN'T look like the dumping ground for the body of a druggie, it's one of the areas being given money and care, it's upmarket. I'm working for a young upstart company, the staff are young, the premises are brilliant, and the atmosphere there was extraordinary: There was a sense of camaraderie rather than the overwhelming urge to belt the person next to you. Even during that half hour I was there for my task, the guy overlooking me was the kind of guy you'd talk to in a pub for the night, not the kind of hard-nosed dickwad supervisor who you'd pay your entire years worth of dole to just for a chance to kick him in the testicles.

I do hope I get a job at the end of it, but i'm not expecting it. Luckily for me, though, I have my TEFL to fall back on. It's going to be tough grinding it to a finish with this placement, but i'll do it.

I'm glad to be heralding in 2014 with this placement. Unpaid 30 hours per week? I don't care. The £100 fortnightly I get from the dole will be enough to cover the experience I direly need. And if I don't get a job, it's yet another back-up: This companies work is much looked for these days, in the days of IT, and i've stumbled across a fair few companies looking for these positions i'm getting experiencing in.

I'm glad to see the back of 2013.

I'm also glad that the JCP got me onto this position. Though I am critical of them (And I still have points of contention against them), they at least have helped me find a job. They've at least given me a reason to get up from next week. My university, Teesside, have done two things to help me find a job: Jack and Shit. One of my gravest mistakes was attending Teesside.

Let me say this: If you live anywhere aside from Teesside, don't attend Teesside. If you live in, say, Newcastle, with Newcastle University on your doorstep, and you choose to go to Teesside, that's like having a rump steak at home, but choosing to go out and eat gristle. Don't fall for their fluff or advertising campaigns: At the end of it, it isn't worth it. And even if you DO live in Teesside, do not attend unless you really, really, really, really cannot afford accommodation elsewhere.

I started off 2013 with nothing but working towards a degree, with no job.

I'm starting off 2014 with two aces up my sleeve: Work experience, and TEFL.

Even if I do have to postpone my plans to teach abroad due to finding a job here, It won't matter. I'll have a job. That's all I wanted in this stinkin' country that doesn't take chances with people like me. If i've found the one company who will take me on, I would work 50 hours unpaid, because just the thought that I found the one light in the darkness is good enough for me.

I'll just chew the walls for sustenance.

Who knows? Maybe 2014 will be a very good year indeed.

XIV - A Rough Road Leads To The Stars

A short entry, just for the sake of the first update in a month.

I've been busy. Not just busy fulfilling the DWP's requirements in order to avoid a crushing sanction that will see me picking up a few Molotov Cocktails and committing to a guerilla war against Iain Duncan Smith, but also with my TEFL.

Last Saturday, I flew the coop to Newcastle to attend a weekend course. The premise was simple: Attend, learn, come away enlightened.

In Newcastle.

Now, here's the thing about Newcastle: I am aware, being a Smoggy, of the local rivalry between Middlesbrough and Newcastle. I'm aware that Newcastle is actually classified as a city, while Middlesbrough is a town. I'm aware that we both supposedly talk alike, and i'm also aware that Newcastle is popular for stag and hen parties, the exact city which makes Sodom and Gomorrah look like Lazytown or Teletubbyland or whatever.

On Saturday, I headed for the Jury's Inn. From there, we learnt the basics. More specifically, what it's like to LEARN it. This is unique, putting us in the position of students. For me, this was odd, as I am still pretty much a student, not having been accepted for a goddamn job since graduating, but a welcome change: It was plain, and it was simple, explaining what essentially we'd be doing in our first lessons. Basic grammar, connectives, and the usual. As well as presentations, parts of speech, and activities we can use.

To teach, you have to be succinct, and drill it repeatedly into their head. You cannot commit to a broad range of the curriculum, but take it very slow and very simple.

Or you use it to teach Newcastle.

During my first day of lunch, I wandered outside, walked up a street, and saw a screaming woman being bundled into the back of a police van, something I haven't seen in Middlesbrough (They're usually already in the van). Continuing on, I then saw a drunk man stumbling up the street, bumping into a dumpster and apologising to it. This being Saturday afternoon.

Saturday night, the town was awash with drunks and floozies, and the Irish. There were so many Irish accents I did a double-take: Did I leave the Jury's Inn and suddenly land in Belfast? Either way, after booking a taxi on my third try (The first company was busy, and the second company just hung up on me. He was unintelligible with his thick Geordie accent. I should have used the TEFL advice of clear, short, succinct speech drilled repeatedly on him, since he wasn't speaking recognisable English.) I headed to the Clifton Mount Hotel, where the lobby was filled with a group of drunken chavs. After waiting ten minutes, due to the owner being.....around somewhere, I managed to finally sleep.

Then woke up at 4am thanks to more drunken Irish accents.

On Sunday afternoon for Lunch, I wandered into town again, saw drunken people stumbling around again, groups of people hanging around pubs, and finally abdicated and headed back to the Jury's Inn.

Now, you may wonder why i'm telling you this, but the fact is that the TEFL course, as well as being entertaining and enlightening, had a secondary effect on me.

It gave me hope.

I haven't had hope in a good while. In Middlesbrough, hope is dead and buried. We buried it when Thatcher buried our industry and turned Britain into the City State of London (With Miscellaneous Satellite Towns). But being around Newcastle made me realise something: Middlesbrough isn't that bad after all.

Not once have I really seen drunken people stumbling around in the middle of the day. Not once have I been out at night and wondered why people are just mulling around aimlessly and aggressively. Not once have I looked at a person in Middlesbrough and genuinely wondered if I would be getting into a fight to the death with them. 

Newcastle seems to be drowning under avarice and liquor. It makes Middlesbrough look tame. Even in the pub gardens and the clubs, most punters generally have the sense to fall unconscious to the floor or get chucked out and take their barring like a man. I still remember watching a Youtube video of Newcastle where a bouncer literally had to powerbomb (As in the wrestling move) a punter onto concrete and knocking him clean out. In Middlesbrough, that rarely happens. Most just get dragged outside and arrested or beaten, not turning into a full on wrestling match.

In the middle of days, Middlesbrough is....comforting. Compared to Newcastle, it's a lot more welcoming. In Newcastle, it's a maze of scaffolding, iron fences and chavs, with winding side streets. Middlesbrough is a simple layout: Sure, half the shops are shut, but at least half the town isn't hidden by scaffolding. I felt that sneezing in Newcastle might suddenly send us all down into a sinkhole, it looked that downtrodden.

I guess that's a price you pay when all you're known for is being the best place to piss your money against a wall at the end of a night.

Being back in Middlesbrough felt good. It felt warm and welcoming. And it's not really just a case of being home: Newcastle is odd. I've ventured to places like Whitby and York on my own before, and not once did they make feel as on edge as Newcastle. 

That and I could actually talk to people without having to resort to TEFL's clear, succinct drilling just to bloody get my point across.

TEFL may have saved me. Not only did it show me that where I live isn't all that bad, but it also gave me hope that this is what I want to do. I dived in head-on to that course, and though the second day was slightly off, due to sleeping about four hours before the Irish woke me up, I did all I could to get involved and do my best. The succinct drilling, the simple methods of teaching, the friendly openness, and the genuine energy you are given and are expected to give really boosted me, as well as listening to the stories of the people who surrounded me.

Even if one of them was barely older than me and had already travelled Europe with a budget of £2000.

But that's why I also have hope: The idea that one day I, a humble Smoggy, can one day travel the world without having a silver spoon in his mouth. The idea that I can learn enough to finally flee Britain and the DWP, and begin carving my own legend into time, away from Britain, and to live the life I know I can.

Such a basic dream. But one I now feel I can genuinely achieve.

Once this online portion of the course is passed, I will be ready and set to head abroad and finally start living. And maybe one day, I will be updating this blog in China, and have only three words to say: "I am happy."

Ad astra per aspera, dear readers. And that is what makes us human.

XII - All Roads Lead To Munich

Life: A never-ending spiral of complexities and conundrums that just won't stop spinning until you either decide to plunge off a cliff or let your light extinguish naturally.

I remember my youth, a never-ending series of questions, mostly "Why can't I do _____?" and the answer was generally "Only grown-ups can". I always told myself that I couldn't wait to grow up, because then i'd get to stay up late, eat ice cream from a tub, go out after dark and do all kinds of cool stuff grown ups could only do.

These days, I only stay up late to apply for jobs and watch Dave into the early hours of the morning. I don't eat ice cream from a tub so much as drink tea by the gallon to soothe my jittery nerves before laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, worrying about whether i'll get a job, move out or get a life or if the Tory parasites will take that final inch in the end. I don't go out after dark because the few times I do get promised to go out drinking, it's always a lie, that and I'd rather stable my bollocks to a moving ferris wheel then go out on the lash in Middlesbrough of all places. (Up in Scotland? I'd love to.)

Of course, I realised that this "cool stuff grown ups could only do" soon essentially translated to "Worry about money, worry about bills, worry about the future and worry about life" (Alright, I'll admit I don't have to worry about the second one, which is one of the positives about being a Jobseeker. Until they snap shut one of their trillions of loopholes and cut you off, all but outright killing you.) I've been told countless times I shouldn't be stressed, but why fucking not? To say I can't be stressed because i'm young is like saying I shouldn't be worried about a bowling ball smashing into my shin because at least it's not aimed at my skull: It's laughable reasoning, and it discounts a real threat that is harming young people across the country.

I'm stressed because I want--Nay, DESIRE some degree of independence. I want to do what my family never did, and travel. I want to see sights. I want to move to a foreign country, own a dog, and start a new slate, away from the bullying and stresses that scarred my years growing up.

And here's where the never-ending spiral of life's complexities kicks in: Independence is even more terrifying because those stresses magnify tenfold when you're on your own. And as this very blog heralds, my very desire to achieve independence and escape Britain.

Hang in there, it gets even more complex.

However, for me, independence is swiftly no longer becoming a choice, but rather a forced hand. Sounds odd, right? But it's just another stress compounded upon my shoulders. Once again, it's because of that goddamn Jobcentre.

A little known fact about me: I'm highly indecisive. Ask me to make a decision and I will spend hours thinking it over. When it came to a career, I never really knew what I wanted: When I was growing up (And for a period a few years ago), I wanted to be an astronaut. That dream was crushed when I was crap at Maths and realised that the odds were stacked against someone from Northern England. For a long time, my mind flitted between wrestling, writing or animal care. I took work experience in animal care, and though I still hold onto aspects of that dream, I realise I probably won't be able to get work in that field because I love animals too much and couldn't bare to put them down or the like.

After that point, from around 16, I wanted to go into writing. But I swiftly realised you can't make a career out of writing from the get-go. J.K Rowling, one of my largest inspirational figures, spent a long period on her life, prior to writing Harry Potter, on benefits, continuously jobless and depressed, but she still emerged from the other end: She went from being broke and hopeless without a leg to stand on, to one of the richest women in the world. She flitted from destination to destination, juggling caring for her child and writing. Many writers often hold careers as they write: Jim Butcher, off the top of my head, working as a computer support technician while writing the Dresden Files. (In the introduction to White Night, however, it states he turned to a career in writing, so he's probably transitioned from it supporting his career into a full-blown career)

I still want to be a writer. Those plans are still there, written out, and I fully plan to try and push a novel through to publication. If Rowling can hit rock bottom and bounce back ferociously to seize the literary world by storm, surely a hopeless, luckless North-Eastern kid can do the same?

However, now i've found out what's going to support me while writing.

Teaching English as a Foreign Language.

On my first signing on session, I made the grave mistake of stating that TEFL was an option. The Jobcentre, not realising that option is not interchangeable with complete goddamn decision, quickly decided that they would pursue it vigorously. On my last sign-on session, they palmed me off to a government loan company, told me to give them a call, and sign onto a TEFL course. That was that.

I spent almost 10 years trying to wonder what my career would be. Jobcentre decided it in a month. If I don't follow through, they'll probably take my kneecaps anyway.

Part of me is hesitant do it. It was an OPTION, a little extra. A little something to do while finding my feet. It was a background thought to stop my brain from killing itself with stress: "You may be a Northerner and your prospects look utterly bleak, but the good news is that there's an option there." See, though I want independence, there's a difference between achieving it on your own terms and being jettisoned into it by means of a cannon.

Part of me wanted to teach English in Japan.Too bad it's likely i'll end up in China.

It's all come so quick that my heads reeling: This is it. This is actually it. 

It's funny how life works: See, when I talk of life's complexities, here's another. My dream was always to travel the world, but now that it looks like my dream COULD technically come true (Pass TEFL, and the doors blow open), I'm fucking terrified. I don't know what to do beyond scratching at a door and waiting for time to pass. It would probably be easier if I gained independence here, at least I would know what to expect, but in China? Thailand? South Korea? I'm so out of my depth i'm going to need kiddy swimming bands. It's not just a step into independence, but the unknown: You have to learn an entirely new culture, learn a new language, and try to fit in. While doing that, I'll also have to teach English: This won't just be an expat job of moving, but a case of two sides jostling for power internally: The English side that I so desperately want to shed but needs to be available, and the Nomad side that will need to scramble up to learn the ins and outs of the country and to help me survive without any help whatsoever.

I'm excited and terrified. I'm excified. Next year, possibly, I could be in China. My dream to escape Britain will have been fulfilled. But at the same time, I'm wondering how the hell i'll survive and cope. How i'll manage to struggle through daily life. And I loathe the idea that the Jobcentre is going to be the gigantic boot kicking my rear across the seas, rather than my own manapult flinging me to a far-away freedom.

My ultimate dream, for the record, is to become a citizen of Germany and live there as an author. So this is, in fact, a precursor to that dream. And it's terrifying. Terrifying that it's happening so quick and so fast that i've barely had time to comprehend it. I never really wanted to teach English to foreign children, but hell, it's a mandatory choice if I want to move, right? It's even more terrifying knowing i'll be going through the motions of TEFL, yet another educational course, with the ape of the Jobcentre latched onto my back and pounding me violently.

...And at the same time, escaping from Britain to China will allow me to finally shed the Jobcentre.

And it will be a precursor to my dream. Perhaps next month, my journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. All roads lead to Munich, and this could be my first step onto that road, and it's still utterly terrifying. I can't even do it really on my terms, but on the Jobcentre's terms. I don't know whether to thank them for kicking my rear, or to strangle them for slamming the sole of their boot against my rear and pushing me forward without time to wrap my head around a career I only thought about a few months ago.

 But It's time to stop being terrified.

In this tale of a Smoggy On The Run, all roads lead to Munich, and it's time to take the step.

I'll enter those countries like I entered this world---

No, wait, apparently I entered sedentary and spent my first hours chugging bottles of milk down.....That doesn't sound too bad, though........Ahem........Either way, time to man up. The dream begins here. I just wish it was on my terms.

But that's not how life, for all its complexities and conundrums, works.

And, to be quite honest, I doubt anyone would have it any other way.

XII - Can't Touch This (Cause You're Out-Of-Touch With Everything)

In my last entry, I pointed both barrels to the latest round of Tory Welfare Reforms, and their plan to treat the unemployed like prisoners and force them into Community Service, the equivalent of "DANCE, MONKEY! DANCE FOR YOUR DOLE!". Opening fire, my bullets consisted of the harsh logic that a one size fits all policy simply does not and has not worked for a country suffering from such engrained unemployment. When the Tory was wounded, I proceeded to swing my shotgun around and club him in the face with a butt that was engraved with the words "Look at Scandinavia. They actually tailor their programmes for the unemployed FOR the unemployed, spend more GDP actually helping the unemployed, and get a lot more in return".

The Tory fell down. As I turned around, however, the Tory got to his feet and opened his mouth.

"Under-25's will not be able to claim unemployment benefits on my watch!"

Time to reload the fucking shotgun.

To summarise:

David Cameron, in a speech so filled with American-style tripe of "Hope and Opportunity" that I was waiting for him to whip out his dick and go "MURRICA, FURRRKKK YEEAAHHHH", has promised to end unemployment benefits for under-25's.

One of my major, MAJOR complaints with Britain is the astounding lack of logic utilised by most Britons, who probably think logic is some kind of new Lebanese food you serve with hummus. Once again, our leader showcases the astounding lack of logic that really should single him out as a complete and utter dunce.

Here is my attempts to understand the thinking pattern of David Cameron:

1. Unemployed under-25's are on dole.
2. This means all unemployed under-25's actively make the choice to sponge off the dole.
3. Therefore, ban the dole for them.

Spot where the major logical hole is. CLUE: It's number 2.

It's the same logic utilised by too many Britons and which, as i've explored several times in this blog, is utterly laughable reasoning. So I won't actually go into it too much, because to do so would be wasting time and repeating myself (Just view my previous entry)

So, let me get started on examining Dave's goddamn speech.

Cameron stated this little ditty: "Instead we should give young people a clear, positive choice: Go to school. Go to college. Do an apprenticeship. Get a job."

1. After school and college, you either have to go into University or get an apprenticeship.
2. If you go into further education and get a degree, you can't DO an Apprenticeship.
3. Even after graduating from your Apprenticeship, there is no guarantee of a job.
4. IF PEOPLE COULD GET A FUCKING JOB, THE ENTIRE COUNTRY WOULD BE EMPLOYED

It's a constant and utterly tedious practice that is like slamming your head off of a wall to burrow to the other side. 

This saying of "Get a Job" is an utterly lazy way to dismiss people genuinely struggling with the spectre of unemployment. A completely abysmal practice of shrugging something off that shows you have no clue about how unemployment actually works.

It actually terrifies me, knowing that we have put someone into power who honestly believes people can just walk into jobs. Nobody can be that out-of-touch with reality and still alive, but not only is he still alive, THE BRITISH PEOPLE VOTED HIM INTO POWER!!

For people who don't know, the job situation in this country, and specifically the region of North East England, is increasingly dire: There are usually upwards of 100 applications per job, to the point where I enjoy pointing out a piece of information I was told regarding my application for a local ASDA, where they received 2,000 applications for 16 jobs.

Yeah, people can totally just walk into jobs.

As companies go bust, as the economy tanks, as the North continues to suffer, and as the job market grows hostile, this idea of being able to walk into some random workplace and claim a job is false. It's not possible. If you do (Trust me, I have tried literally walking into several stores, from high street chains to smaller stores, asking for a job or if they have vacancies), the answer's the same: Apply online. Send your CV online. Companies aren't willing to take in any random joe off the street.

The Apprenticeship route is a possible route, and is the only actual route where the opportunity of a gaining a job afterwards is technically possible, but even then it still isn't a guaranteed fix.

It's wishes and hopes from the Tory tossers. They obviously want to boost their figures, with their national apprenticeship schemes, by forcing youngsters into them, or else removing their dole.

But there's only so many Apprenticeships. And once you've done one, it's highly unlikely you can apply for a second one. So, once you've completed your apprenticeship, and you're unemployed because you haven't been taken on, what then?

No dole for you anyway.

 David also said: "So this is what we want to see: everyone under 25 - earning or learning."

Essentially, Cameron's plan is to force everyone under 25 to either find a job hopelessly, or to push them through one-size-fits-all training regimes or education. (And let's not forget that, if you go into further education, you're saddling yourself with student debt just to finance it)

It's goddamn selective helping. All these 25 year olds without benefits, still living at homes if they are unable to get into training, employment or education.

You don't even think of the parents who are hard-off, who will now be unable to gain anything from that dole money from the children who do pay a portion of it towards their parents: You are just saddling the poorer parents with another mouth to feed, more money to spend.

Look, let's bloody face it: By removing dole from the under-25's, you have essentially just shattered the leg of the economy. Yes, you're saving a few bob, but who is actually helping to stimulate the economy? Remove benefits permanently, and now you have an economic black hole, an entire group of people unable to contribute to the economy and thus unable to stimulate it.

Then you have their parents who will be burdened down further, and that's even less money being pumped into the economy.

And then, by pushing them into the training programs, which aren't funded by wishes and sparkles and goddamn unicorns, you're just spending more money training them up ONLY TO FORCE THEM INTO A HOSTILE ECONOMY WITH MORE UNIFORM SKILLS THAT AREN'T HELPING AND WILL NOT HELP THEM FIND A JOB IN THE LONG RUN!

Not only that, but if you remove the dole.....how can you expect young people to actually relocate for jobs?

For a lot of young people, relocation within Britain is a viable option. Why? Because if their job (Typically, these days) is unsecured, they get shoved onto a zero hours contract or they simply get cut off, they can at least be offered some help as they try and keep on the job ladder. Remove that, and not only do you essentially keep an entire generation pinned down in their homes, unwilling to take the risk of moving away since they know that, if the worst happens, they will have ZERO support, but you risk driving a wedge between the chasm in rich and poor.

I'd like to think that, if Britain wasn't so cowardly and complacent, such a move, essentially pinning the poorest of society into unemployed areas (Note that I have the North of England in mind here) and therefore outright robbing bright young children of the chance to relocate securely and being able to contribute to the growing economy, in lue of the rich who would be able to move around and swallow the jobs up without a care, would send Britain spiralling into a class-fuelled revolution, an outright rebellion.

Won't happen, but it might. It's a dangerous game Cameron is playing.

There is no thought of consequences. It's lazy attempts to make the papers by taking a common enemy, the unemployed, and victimising them even further. It's become a sport for Tories and Brainless Britons to victimise the unemployment, believing it to be a choice rather than an effect, but it's reaching such levels now that it's becoming ludicrous.

It's a hypocritical paradox spewed out by the Tories: How has no-one picked up on the fact that one day, Cameron will be laughing along, chortling and saying that he is on OUR side, proposing to drive forward the house market and get young people into their first houses, then the next day, he plans to hack away benefits for ALL under-25's, even if they suffer an unexpected job loss, thus meaning they'll have no leg to stand on in that new house when it comes to paying back the mortgage HE wants to offer them?

It's complete insanity! Cameron operates on the deluded mindset that a job is for life, and not a temporary fix in a hostile economy. He must honestly believe that anyone who finds a job will stay in it for years, even though statistics consistently tell us otherwise.

Michael Gove stated "It's important also that we all recognise that welfare is there explicitly to help those people through hard times that it shouldn't become habituated."

But by removing ALL welfare for under-25's, regardless of recent job losses or not, then you immediately relinquish the right to say that you are helping people through hard times.

You are choosing who to help. You are not helping people in hard times.

At the end of it all, they are now forcing people into one-size-fits-all schemes (Which, as I explored in my last entry, does not work.) or else outright removing their dole if they're under 25, or forcing them through education to burden them with debt, and then acting surprised when they're squeezed out the other end into a hostile job market, only to find that the job market isn't blooming and is still completely and utterly hostile unless you live further South

It's an illogical mess, constructed around an idea that people choose the dole, and the belief that everyone can find a job the moment they leave training, education or an apprenticeship.

David Cameron and his party have become hostis humani generis: An enemy of the human race.

Their plans consist of the same recycled tripe of blaming youngsters, hacking away their means of financial support, and then looking surprised when the economy chokes and dies.

I weep knowing that my family will still be here, in a country that is consistently out of touch with the unfolding reality around them, having to rely on media propaganda and lies to teach them everything about actual occurrences, rather than using their own minds.



Oh, and in concerns to another news story: That of the Daily Mail chastising and taunting Ed Miliband's dead father, and bringing him up as the man who hated Britain..

..I hate Britain too, Daily Mail.

Come and get me.

But you won't, because i'm still alive to fight back.

Nazi sympathising, blackshirted, vitriol-spewing inbred cowards.

Between our press and our politicians, is it no wonder those who can are fleeing the country?

XI - One Size Does Not Fit All

Today, the Coalition unveiled plans for dealing with the long-term unemployed.

Today, a gigantic thunder clap was heard over Northern England, believed to be millions of palms simultaneously hitting foreheads.

The two are believed to be connected.

In the latest batch of Workfare at todays Conservative Party Conference, the government has laid out further plans for their assault on the long term unemployed: Work Programme isn't working? Mandatory Work Activity isn't working? Unleash the Community Action Programme on steroids!

I have little compassion for David Cameron, though even I will have to admit that Cameron is trying to do his best and only following party rules, having inherited a sinking, rotten ship that was burdened with debt thanks to Labour's policies of "We're in debt? Let's borrow more!". But for me, George Osborne and Iain Duncan Smith have little redeeming qualities. Osborne is an odd chap, what I assume a clothes store mannequin would look like if it had a face that resembled a cross between The Krankies and a potato, who seems to be insanely out-of-touch with the actual reality of the economic situation, but at least he seems to hate Iain Duncan Smith, which makes him an actual human being in my eyes, while Iain Duncan Smith could only be redeemed if he was locked in solitary in Broadmoor with ten other sex-starved, 30 stone-plus violent and psychotic inmates for a month, and even then you'd be hard-pressed to find a person afterwards whose hand wouldn't snap like a twig before they tired of punching him in his vapid, dummy-like face.

Essentially, the new governments plans are simple, and on paper, are inviting: From April 2014, you take the long term unemployed (which, in Tory speak, is those unemployed for around three years and have failed to find a job through the governments Work Programme which is still not doing enough to actually help the situation for many people), and do one of three things with them:

• Force them into 30 hours per week Community Service (Picking up litter, visiting old people, watching as they throw themselves under buses)
• Force them to visit the Jobcentre every single day to apply for work 
• The Mandatory Intervention Regime, which legitimately sounds like a program the KGB would run for rooting out INSURGENTS AGAINST THE GLORIOUS MOTHERLAND, but is in fact designed to get those who are illiterate, addicts, generally helpless etc; into work by targeting their problems.

On paper, the idea is that the schemes will either get people into work, or force them off of benefits as they finally give up.

The Tories are promising its the former, it's clearly the latter.

And herein lies the problem: It is based off the false assumption that every single Jobseeker is a lazy and shiftless bag of crap who doesn't want to work, is only claiming benefits for the sake of a free handout, and is based around the laughable idea that community service + forced work experience = immediately hirable employee.

Firstly: No, not every Jobseeker is a lazy and shiftless bag of crap. It's a sad fact that there are people who abuse the system: The chavs wearing grey tracksuit bottoms who spend every penny of dole money on large televisions and Stella, rather than on trainfare and busfare trying to find work, but it's a sad belief that the people of Britain think this applies to everyone.

By shunting people into community work, you're not helping them. You're making them into personalised butlers. Osborne probably walked down London, kicked aside some glass, and thought "If only these darned ruffians cleaned the streets!"

Lightbulb.

So Osborne implemented it. But doing so only removes time applying for jobs for the long term unemployed, and it's a blanket solution: You are giving them only a few transferrable skills, and giving it to a wide range of people. That congests the job market and, inevitably, sets the unemployed back to square one. The problem in the jobs market isn't necessarily that there are a lack of jobs: Indeed, hard enough searches reap rewards, but that people don't have the right set of skills for the time. Right now, there are a plethora of construction and IT jobs out there, waiting to be filled: So instead of shunting them into utterly useless forced community work, why not give them placements in construction or IT, or training if they don't have the skills? If they do, why not incentivise employers to take them on? Why not try and help re-train them or train them further?

I'm sorry, but does that make too much sense? It's almost like you'd actually be helping people rather than forcing them into a blanket scheme.

The second point, being forced to attend the Jobcentre everyday......The less said about that, the better. I'll get onto that later.

Community work. What pointless tosh. I assume they'll dress them up in orange overalls, too. Once again, the criminalisation of unemployment under the Coalition government marches on.

But, you could always refuse it. And people will. You have people giving up and signing off, throwing their hands up and finally admitting its too much. Again, the eyes of naive Britons, it's beautiful: The dole-scrounging apes have finally gone! NOBODY GETS SOMETHING FOR NOTHING!

Except now you have a black hole in the economy: Tell me, how are those apes supposed to contribute to the economical growth and repair of the country? They no longer have an income, so they're not driving any growth into the economy.  They are, even more so, a drain on society. Unless they die, in which case: Hey, whatever.

Oh George, it's so beautiful on paper.

So utterly moronic in practice.

I will throw my hands up and admit that, as a basic idea, Workfare is needed, and if I ever get told that i'll be forced into work by the Jobcentre, I'll take it because right now, i'd suck up pennies from the sewer with my mouth for some spare cash. And y'know what? I do agree that more should be done to deter the actual welfare sponges from claiming welfare. But it's not a solution for actual long term unemployment. Not a solution for those truly desperate for work. Anyone who thinks it is, is a complete fucking imbecile with the intelligence of a grapefruit. It's like putting a plaster on a gaping neck wound, or bandaging an arm that's fallen off.

And the fact that the British people eat it up and believe it to be the choice for healing our broken society shows me that anyone with any semblance of intelligence or heart is escaping this forsaken island in search of a better and brighter home.

Workfare is not stemming the tide of long-term unemployed. It's trying to, and failing to, choke the problem dead. By throttling every single long-term unemployed person into a one-size-fits-all policy, you aren't helping ANYONE. You're discouraging and outright killing the people your supposed to be helping. Yes, people should take whatever job they have and be goddamn grateful for it, but when you are throttling every single person into one category, that's not helping: That's just exploiting fillable holes in a fragile labour market. That's covering your eyes with your hands and thinking that sweeping it all under the rug makes it go away.

And when the person comes out of Workfare, what then?

The British people presumably believe that's it. Once the person comes out of Workfare, instant job and no longer a burden.

Bless them. Such a naive race.

Nope, what you've got is a person with experience, who joins several other people with experience. What you've essentially done is congested the jobs market even further by giving people the same uniform skills and not played to their strengths or given them something sellable: You have, once again, filled the jobs market with potential jobseekers with the same goddamn skills.

It's madness.



And so, back to visiting the Jobcentre everyday.

What does that have in common with everything else the government vomits out?

One size fits all.

One size fits all doesn't work, and the DWP does not understand this simple fact. The jobs market is suffering because there just aren't people with employable skills. When you have post-graduates unable to go on Apprenticeships, and when your solution to long term unemployment is community service, you are doing something wrong as a government. Why not take those graduates and offer them a program to give them skills in Construction or other highly-sought-after skills? Why not take the long-term unemployed, set aside a fund dedicated to getting them into work (ie; incentivising companies to actually take on long-term unemployed. If you can set aside money to force people into community service, surely you can set aside money to entice companies to hire or even just train long-term unemployed with actual highly-sought skills.) and do something about it rather than throwing them into a pit and going "MAKE MEALS FOR THE ELDERLY, OR YOUR BENEFITS DIE!!!"?

Statistics show that those who do go on workfare, around a quarter find a job for up to three months. Only 14.7% found themselves in work for at least six months.

 

This isn't helping, Britain: What do you think happens after workfare? They just return to benefits.

And the problem isn't solved. It just becomes a vicious cycle.

And you think it helps?

You idiotic fools.

Give them personalised help, not this utter tosh the Jobcentre offers in the shape of one-size-fits-and-helps, with the idea being that unemployment is a choice and taking benefits of a choice.

Actually offer help. In Denmark, where unemployment is notoriously low, they spend 1.3% of their GDP on helping the unemployed get into work. How? Personalised help. They don't smother it with a blanket, they offer vocational training and further education for those in dire need of it. They help with job searching in general for the person: Not just a "Here's a job, apply or we axe your benefits", but "Here's a few jobs that will suit you better." They get special support. And y'know what? They reap the benefits: Look at the UN's World Happiness Report 2010-12, where's Denmark?

HEY, LOOK, IT'S FIRST!

And based on it's GDP, Social Support, Freedom to make life choices, Healthy life expectancy, and lack of corruption. In fact, the trend is strong amongst Scandinavian countries where they actually strive to help the unemployed! Norway is second, Sweden is fifth, and Finland (Though whether you agree its technically Scandinavian or not..) is seventh.

 Where's the UK?

22.

Give yourselves a pat on the back.

The moment the government acts to lower unemployment, rather than smothering the unemployed, the sooner it will help. The sooner it becomes clear the government wants to help rather than demonise, the better. The sooner the British public pull their heads from their rears and view their unemployed with dismay rather than contempt, the better. The sooner we can actually help, the better.

But that would require work, and wouldn't demonise Jobseekers, so the Tories cannae do that.

X - Give Quiche A Chance

Friday Night

21:00pm GMT

MISSION BRIEFING:

Alright Phil, tomorrow's mission is your standard infiltration. The Jobcentre are sending you to Kalinka's Bar to rendezvous with Middlesbrough Live Academy at the drop point.

"Wait, what? Kalinka's? What the hell is a Kalinka's? That sounds Russian."

It's an upscale cocktail bar serving the Middlesbrough public, and the job we want you to go for is about the only thing you have experience in: They're looking for glass collectors. So much for being a graduate, eh?

"I think we've already established that studying at Teesside University was a waste of time. Can't I just enquire about work experience?"

No. THE JOBCENTRE WILLS IT, OR WE WILL CLUB YOU TO DEATH AND EAT YOUR BONES. Ahem. Your mission is to hand in a copy of your CV in at Kalinka's and then pray that you can find a job. Radar photographs show that the area will be heavily guarded by pissed-up Smoggies, since tomorrow is Middlesbrough Music Live. The drunken Smoggies should give you enough cover to appear to be the smartest and most apt person there, thus giving you a chance of getting the job. Are you ready?

"Geezus, Middlesbrough Music Live? I hope you're paying for a stab vest. Do I get health insurance?"

The NHS will tend to your--

"THE NHS?!?! It just gets worse! So, I take a copy of my CV into Kalinka's, hand it in to someone who appears to know what they're talking about, and get out?"

Well, it wouldn't hurt to mingle with your future prospective employers.

"So, this isn't just an infiltration, but reconnaissance too? Seems like a lot of hoops to jump through for £100, considering I already cleared it up with you that i'm looking to apply for TEFL which will get me off your books sooner and indefinitely, but whatever gets me paid."

We've left you a tuxedo at the bar. Good luck, Agent.

"A tuxedo? It's Middlesbrough Music Live! Get me my satchel, my vomit-stained jeans, a leather jacket, and i'll fit right in!"

Lastly, photographs of the area show that someone from Geordie Shore was there tonight, and that you may have to rub elbows with chavs and general drunken people. Concerning statistics gleaned from ASDA applications earlier, we noted that over 2,000 people applied for 16 vacancies. While this provides excellent cover, we don't know if the NHS will be able to help you if you enter the Bar and find yourself crushed against a wall beneath a heaving column of Jobseekers flesh.

"Great. Crushed beneath a heaving column of flesh. I could go to Blu and get that done without jumping through hoops. Alright, Agent out."

SATURDAY MORNING

11:30am GMT

Are you ready, agent?

"This CAN'T be happening. You know I get that deer-caught-in-headlights stare when talking to other people, least of all future employers, and now you want me to enter a Bar and do it?!"

Agent, this is brilliant practice for the future! That and it gets you out of our hair because we don't give a single shit about you. 

"Well, at least the Jobcentre is truthful in that. Alright, i'm heading out now. Wish me luck."

Piss off, welfare sponge.

"Charming."

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

12:30pm GMT  

"This is Phil. I'm at the TU. Printing off CV and then heading for Kalinka's."
 

What's the security situation like?

"Quiet. Too quiet. Market stalls are being set up. There's a fair outside the library. Currently printing off mission documentation and expecting ninjas to get the drop on me. Chavvy ninjas. Chavvy heroin addict drunken ninjas."

Agent, we appreciate it, but you're still a welfare sponge and we still expect you to do this even though you've made it clear you want a career in Teaching English as a Foreign Language. STOP MESSING ABOUT AND COMPLETE YOUR MISSION!

"Look, I performed some early morning recon and I don't know if an event is occurring or what? Look, I don't want to be sucked in, or else the mission could be compromised. This should just be a standard walk-in and drop-off. I don't want to listen to shitty music and I certainly don't want to be forced to buy tickets just to hand in a CV!"

Agent, ARE YOU DARING TO IMPLY YOU ARE LAUNCHING AN INSURRECTION AGAINST THE JOBCENTRE? WE WILL WITHHOLD YOUR MONEY FOR 10 QUINTILLION YEARS IF YOU DO SO, EVEN IF IT IS AN ABNORMALLY HEAVY-HANDED PUNISHMENT FOR A MINOR INFRACTION!!!!

"Well, I have to eat, so I guess it's off to Kalinka's I go. When I get back, remind me to give your Jobcentre a few Molotov Cocktails."

You can get arrested for that.

"Oh no. You mean my own cell, three free meals a day, exercise and other privileges? Yikes, please don't do that to me!"

You are a pathetic individual.

"Tell that to the people who commit crimes just to get support from the state thanks to your red tape and abnormal loopholes that can prevent people from getting money they need at any time."

NOBODY USES LOGIC AGAINST THE JOBCENTRE AND GETS AWAY WITH IT. OFF WITH YOU, AGENT!

"If I don't survive, spread my ashes at Saint James' Park so I may choke a Geordie in my death."

It's technically the Sports Direct Arena.

[Laughs] "Ah, man, that never gets old."

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

1:15PM GMT

Agent, are you there?

"This is Agent P. The mission headed south but I handed in my CV and escaped. I believe Kalinka attempted to use a new form of mind control to subdue me into staying."

No, Agent, we picked up on that feed: It was just shitty music.

"Oh."

But your mission was a success?

"Oh, yes, because stuttering, mumbling, smiling weakly and handing in my CV amongst a throng of  dead-eyed Jobseekers is a sign of success."

Still, you mingled with the people and a prospective employer.

"In Red Dwarf, there's a scene where Arnold Rimmer, having turned from a narcissistic egomaniac into a weak, limp-wristed pacifist, wears a t-shirt saying 'Give Quiche A Chance' and talks about pacifying an incredibly violent and malevolent Polymorph that's on Red Dwarf."

And?

"That's how I feel doing this on the Jobcentre's commands: Utterly useless, going nowhere, and generally stuttering like a moron in the hope something will come of it. They also held interviews, y'know."

AND?!

"I didn't stay for that part. When the owner wears grey tracksuit bottoms and ignores you, and when you're just randomly picked to have an interview after an hour of waiting, I just dropped my CV off."

INSOLENCE! YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED!

"I did what was asked of me. That's all. I wasn't prepared for an interview, and I tried to speak to the owner. If he doesn't want anything of it, then so be it."

Fine. Come home. Until the next day when we'll ask you to visit a conference centre in Newcastle or somewhere just to attend a jobs fair.

"I'm heading off to recon whatever is going on. Music Live or whatever"

Agent, are you insane?! IT'S MUSIC LIVE! THERE ARE DANGEROUS, IMBECILIC DRUNKARDS OUT THERE LISTENING TO HORRID INDIE MUSIC! IT'S SUICIDE!!"

"I'm a smoggy. I don't fear death. In fact, I welcome it! As you can tell by the general quality of air we breathe. Besides, it's only on tonight, and what's the worst that could happen when it comes to market stalls? Aside from food poisoning?"

Agent, if you die, we will harass your family with letters asking why you haven't shown up to sign on, because we're utterly incompetent at filing and following updates on our clients, and even if we're told someone dies, we still send them letters!

"Veni. Vidi. Vici."

Agent Peter, head for the extraction point this instant!

"MY NAME IS PHILIP, DAMN YOU! PHILIP! HOW DO YOU EVEN MIX THOSE TWO WORDS UP, YOU IDIOTS?! PETER HAS A HARD "PUH" INFLECTION, AND PHILIP HAS A SOFT "FIH" INFLECTION! I'M AN ENGLISH STUDENT, DAMN YOU, AND I CAN SPELL MY OWN GODDAMN NAME!!!!!!!!!"

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

2PM GMT

"This is Agent P. I'm at the extraction point. Or, as we call it, Middlesbrough Bus Station."

Good to see that you are still alive, Peter.

"IT'S PHILIP!"

Look, the Jobcentre has better things to do than know your name. What have you learnt from today?

  "When the Jobcentre says jump, I have to say "How High?" or else you'll stop my money, because you're too busy punishing the people who need it and not stopping the people who are just using it to buy massive televisions?"

 Good. Now that you thoroughly embarrassed yourself and handed your CV in during an event that could have got a normal agent killed, are you ready for your classroom session on Monday?

"You know what? I honestly don't think it's worth the effort. If it wasn't for the fact that I would pick up dog crap in my teeth just for a pound, I wouldn't even give you vapid sodomite pustules the time of day, but now you've got me by the balls, I have to do everything by the book. Tell me: I've already given you my plan. I've already let you know there is no chance in hell i'm signing back on once I complete my TEFL course, so why do I have to do these stupid missions? I have already brought dishonor upon myself and my family, so why must we overegg the pudding?"

Because the Government doesn't care. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'd love to give you a service that would actually help, but y'see, the Government is the one who is more concerned with catching people out and punishing those claiming welfare or removing them from welfare, rather than actually getting you a job.

"Wait, what?"

Look, we work for hours upon hours, dealing with violent drunks or heroin addicts, as well as dead-eyed students such as yourselves, and what do we get for it? The Tories and Lib-Dems pissing on us from a great height. It's not about finding you a job, it's about catching you out. It's an expensive game of British Bulldogs: We stand there and watch as you run past us to your benefits. The moment you so much as slip a toe in front of us, we'll grab you and you then become one of us: Dying inside with a complete hatred of those who get to claim benefits.

"So, our sad and pathetic existences are entwined with eachother?"
 

Yep.

"Then, in that case, I guess i'll be in on Monday."

Good. Oh, and agent? If Kalinka's has another recruitment event, guess where you'll be going?

"Under the wheels of a nearby bus?"

Atta boy!

MISSION COMPLETED

200 EXP AWARDED

 £135 AWARDED 

"GIVE QUICHE A CHANCE" ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED

IX - Everything Causes Violence

Music. Video Games. Television. Pornography.

What do they all have in common?

Middle-aged/old morons think they cause violence in the youth.

It's an odd paradox: In the previous generation, it was believed to be music that caused murder and suicide. Bands such as Judas Priest were accused of hiding subliminal messages in their music to encourage fans to commit suicide. Bullshit, of course, but the older generation at the time were quick to crap themselves and ramp up the scare.

The generation prior to them, it was television and pornography. Television was the tool of the devil, and touching your privates made Jesus kill a bag of puppies according to the older generation.

The generation prior to them, it was.....Well, they were too busy fighting the Nazi's to bother blaming the generation before them, mostly because they were too busy burying them.

For our generation, what causes violence? What is the moral shock seizing the throat of the world? What is turning our children into feral, untameable youth?

Bad parenting? Politicians teaching us that corruption and lying makes you rich? Bankers teaching us we can fail and still make it big while someone pays off our mistakes? Sex scandals from celebrities? Celebrity suicides?

Of course not, that would require the older generation to take the blame. Instead, the blame is falling on the internet and video games.

It's a relentless circle: An older generation blames something released in the newer generation for causing violence, sin and vice. Then it goes away. Then that newer generations blames something released in the next generation for causing violence, sin and vice, despite living through the last moral panic and realising its all absolute bullshit spewed by morons who look at a camera and think "WHEN THAT FLASH GOES OFF, IT TAKES MY SOUL!". Then that newer generation blames something released in the even newer generation for causing......You get the picture.

I wonder what our generation will blame as causing a moral panic amongst the next generation? "Virtual Reality causes violence, sexual tension and loitering!"? We'll see.

Anyway, I digress, back onto my point: The sheer imbecility of blaming everything new for our problems. In this case: The internet and video games.

 In the world of logical fallacies, there is a major logical fallacy stating that Correlation does not imply causation. It is as it says: Just because two events are remotely linked (Man shoots other man, Shooter plays video games, therefore video games causes violence) does not mean that they have caused the effect. Likewise, I could say that eating chocolate causes violence: Man shoots other man, Shooter ate a lot of chocolate, therefore chocolate causes violence. But that's bullshit, isn't it? "CHOCOLATE DOESN'T CAUSE MOOD CHANGES OR EXPOSES US TO VIOLENCE"

I don't know: We're all taught to fight to the death for the last Rolo.

What about television? Barely anyone points the finger at television anymore. Hell, we could improve Britain and remove talent shows for good: Man shoots other man, Shooter watched Britains Got Talent and X Factor religiously, therefore TV talent shows cause violence. See how facetious the reasoning is? Hell, let's turn the facetiousness up to eleven: Man shoots other man, Shooter breathes air, therefore breathing causes violence.

See? Utter imbecility, and yet because we jab the finger at video games and technology, it suddenly turns from laughable reasoning into the stark truth.

Nick Clegg stated that video games have a detrimental effect on personality, with players living in a "Hermetically sealed world" and that, essentially, they don't go out and they don't socialise.

Basically, a man who hasn't heard of online multiplayer games.

I agree that children shouldn't stay cooped in playing video games: After all, they're missing out on valuable time getting stabbed in the streets of London, getting eachother pregnant and getting pissed on Lambrini and tormenting bystanders.

The problem isn't video games. But the older generations refuse to accept that. After all, by blaming video games, you can blame something that's essentially faceless, an institution. But if you blame the poor parenting, then you'd be causing trouble and be pinning the blame on actual people. Can't have that.

Why don't we blame bad parents? It's bloody simple: A recent story was a man who got mugged (Stabbed and beaten with a brick) by two teenagers after buying GTA V at the midnight release. In the early hours of the morning, he was mugged and stabbed.

Yeah, fuck Grand Theft Auto. But what about the parents? Heaven fucking forbid the parents should take the blame for allowing their little bastards to be out in the early hours of the morning!

But hell, yeah, just blame the video games. If a child goes out and stabs a man to mug him, it's Call of Duty's fault. It's not the fault of the parent for failing to teach their child rights and wrongs, It's not the fault of the parent for failing to take proper care of their child and making sure they are not up to unsavoury behaviour, and it's certainly not the fault of the parent for checking their child and their stuff to make sure they're not stashing lethal weaponry.

If a childs out drinking on the street corner, why are the parents not concerned as to where their child is? Why the hell do parents allow their tiny little shits to go out to pubs and nightclubs? Why don't parents just not give a shit anymore? They don't care, they just let them loose like feral animals.

Of course, it's easy to blame the animals themselves, rather than the handlers, right?

And Clegg says we shouldn't be cooped up inside all day playing video games since it gives us no experience of the real world. Clegg is partially right, but attaching these wee bastards to video games is probably the only way the streets will be safe. After all, Nicky-boy, which is better: Having a child grow up around video games, picking up knowledge of technology, and possibly making friends with a wide array of cultures and creeds due to the wider accesibility of the internet, or having a child let loose on the streets by parents who don't give a shit?

Answers on a postcard.

I was brought up right: I was always taught that there were consequences for my actions. I was always taught to be polite and have manners. When I was young, I played outside a lot (NOTE: Of course, as time went on, technology unravelled and I found it more interesting to play video games than play outside (Mostly because my neighbours are arseholes and, after a certain point, the large groups of kids and teens playing outside dwindled to nothingness.) Of course, i've been accused of living in a hermetically-sealed world and being unsociable. Never mind the fact that I made plenty of friends in Secondary School and in Sixth Form. And I socialised in University with the few people I could stand. And the fact that despite playing video games, my wanderlust hasn't been satisfied an inch..) Because, mostly, parents cared. If you carried a knife, they'd probably clip you around the lughole and take it away from you. And you'd take the clip like a man.

Nowadays, you can barely jab a finger at a child without being accused of being abusive. Since when the fuck did a slap on the bottom count as abuse? If you're beating a child black and blue, that's abusive, but a sharp slap on the rear? How is that abuse? It's discipline.

It's what todays youth lack.  And you can see the results: Youth today think of themselves as untouchable, and they've turned violent. Do we pin the blame on a severe lack of discipline? As a society, do we blame ourselves because our attitudes have become marshmallow soft and we let little Jeremy return, caked in blood and carrying a knife, without batting an eyelid?

No, because....because.....BECAUSE GRAND THEFT AUTO!

Fucking video games, eh?

And likewise, in the recent Washington Navy Yard shooting, a man with a history of mental health issues, that went largely ignored, shot up the Navy Yard. Of course, did the media pick up on the fact that he had these mental health issues that, combined with service in the military and the fact he owns a rifle, may just combine into a lethal cocktail?

Oh, of course not. He played Call of Duty. Blame that shit. Heaven forbid we should blame the the police forces of the United States for not noticing he had a history of mental health issues and violent crime, and not committing him to a mental institution or psychiatric help, or the systems that helped him pass firearms checks and security background checks with the same health issues.

No, it's all Call of Duty's fault.


 --

Right now, I want to stand back and pick a fight with something else too. My generation and the blames we shoulder.

Our generation has delusions of grandeur, insanely high hopes for the future, and are frequently lambasted for believing everything should be given to us for nothing. And we get blamed for believing ourselves to be entitled and with an unwarranted sense of self-importance.

And the older generation will gladly scuttle through the dirt and point fingers at us for this attitude.

But maybe we picked it up from higher forms of power?

See, I don't know if anyone else has a similar train of thought, but the accusations of grandeur against my generation seemed to come in thick and fast around the time of the global economic crisis. Y'know, the same crisis where gigantic banks such as the Lehman Brothers failed, and the taxpayer was called upon to bail them out. And what happened to the Lehman Brothers? A slap on the wrist fine, despite accusations of short-selling and being involved in the subprime mortgage crisis (Which was a great indicator of a Yanks intelligence: Take out a mortgage you can't afford to pay back, watch as the rates spiral high thanks to the decline in U.S house prices, default, and watch the banks just snatch them up) And, of course, what about Richard Fuld Jr., the CEO of Lehman Brothers?

Oh, y'know, still rich and no legal action taken against him.

Goldman Sachs was accused of short-selling subprime mortgage securities, and have been accused of helping hide the extent of Greece's true debt, hiding its own earnings (or rather, losses) from 2008-2009. What did they get? Slap on the wirst. And what about Lloyd Blankfein?

Still rich and no legal action taken against him.

Of course, I could run through a list of banks that were noted to be "too big to fail" until my fingers fall off, but you get the picture: Barely any of the major bankers who contributed to the ongoing global economic crisis have been prosecuted. CEO's and Bankers still walk off with millions in profit and bonuses, even if they fail or are short of their goals.

Then you have politicians, who claim expenses for trivial items such as doghouses and the like, and the public is expected to foot the bill.

Then you have companies who can dodge tax (Such as Starbucks and Amazon), and what happens? A fat load of nothing.

But yeah, fuck my generation. Bunch of lazy bastards expecting something for nothing. After all, they totally could not have got the idea from the attitudes and actions of the real world that has unfolded around them.

No wonder we hold such delusions when we turn on the news and are taught one thing: Someone else will just foot the bill for our failures.




And fuck the youth of today. Bunch of violent little criminals who are untouchable. After all, that could totally not be subverted or avoided by having parents actually care, or by re-introducing actual discipline against them for serious crimes.
It's video games.

And that is the root of all problems: They refuse to pin the blame on the actual causes of the problems. They pin the blame on either those who end up suffering because of the problems, or the causes which aren't actually the causes, because they can't stand blaming themselves or an actual high power.

Society is screwed. Civilisation is becoming uncivilised.

And it's all the fault of video games and us.

Albert Einstein once said: I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.

And when, in a thousand to two thousand years time, our future kin are sitting in bunkers, reading tales of the war that ended the world, hiding from feral gangs of irradiated psychopaths wielding clubs and boulders, they will come across World War III, and what will it say? Will it say that the governments were to blame? Will it say that society's habit of refusing discipline caused a rise in violent crime, and a blameless attitude allowed such exchanges to escalate into war? Will it say that our habit of paying for other people's failures had us just sit back and watch the bombs rain down rather than fighting?

No, it will probably blame Pac Man.

History and its insane moral shocks march on.

VIII - The Tragedy: Act I, Scene I

[Scene is a large room with several tables set up in a square. A projector shines a slideshow of Social Media onto the wall. The room is drab and lifeless, and the Careers Advisor is orange and almost day-glo.]

[Enter Phil]

Phil's Brain: Yep, that's right: I went through five years of further education to go back to Secondary School.

[Enter 11 other hopeless prospects. Their legs almost drag, their stares are blank, and a silence is amongst them.

The 12 jobless take their seats.]

Careers Advisor: So, today, we're going to focus on Social Media and it's place within searching for jobs. First, we just need to take a register.

Phil's Brain: This is it. This is really it. This is my life. It's over. Wodan, if you have any mercy for perhaps the last of your followers, strike my heart into stillness and take me to the gates of Asgaard!

[Register is called out]

Phil: Here.

[Register continues to be called out. Once taken, the Careers Advisor, a cheerful young woman, almost day-glo, with a general friendly demeanour, stands in front of the table.]

Advisor: So, today, we're going to focus on Social Media. Right now, i'd like you to introduce yourselves and tell everyone about your job prospects, why you're unemployed, something to tell us!

Phil's Brain: THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING. I'M BACK IN PRIMARY SCHOOL NOW.

[Jobseekers, in dreary, monotone, dead voices, answer. Most are 19 years old out of further education. One was recently laid off. Advisor looks at Phil.]

Phil: I'm Phil. Twenty one. Recent graduate of English Studies, and it was a waste of time.

[Cue a few chuckles, either of agreement or possibly self-righteous laughs of people not stupid enough to waste time in University.]

Advisor: .....Right. So, what are your job prospects?

Phil: Teaching English as a--

Advisor: Teaching?

Phil [Impatiently]: Teaching English as a Foreign Language. Need to go on a TEFL course.

Advisor: Postcode?

[Stunned few seconds of silence]

Phil's Brain: She's thicker than a goddamn oatcake.

Phil: No. TEFL course. Need money for it--

Advisor: And have you looked into funding for it?

Phil's Brain: No, why do you think i'm here? For FUN?!

Phil: Not available for postgraduates.

Advisor: Ah, moving on.

[Greetings are finished.]

Advisor: So, we're going to talk about Facebook, Twitter and Linkedin. How many of you use Facebook?

[A general smattering of "Yup" goes up, like mini Dave Hester's are in the room.]

Advisor: ..Can we have a show of hands, just so I can see?

[Everyone raises their hands]

 Advisor: Right, so, you all know how to use it, then?

Phil's Brain: No, we put our arms up because we all got cramp in unison.

Advisor: Did you know you could use Facebook for job searching?

Phil's Brain: THAT'S WHY WE'RE HERE!

Advisor: Y'see, above your profile, there's a little bar called a search bar..

Phil's Brain: We're not even human fucking beings anymore. We're petulent little maggots incapable of thought now.

[Image of timeline shows up on screen]

Advisor: Now, this is a picture of your Timeline. I don't know if anyone elses is like that..

Phil's Brain: EVERYONE'S IS! IT'S A GODDAMN UNIVERSAL CODING!

Advisor: ...But everyone can see it if you don't have privacy settings enabled. So, I don't know if you know, but you can scroll down, add life events, view your pictures...

Phil's Brain: Oh Wodan, this is real. This is actually real. She thinks we're all morons who signed up to Facebook and then licked the screen for an hour before logging off. THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!

Advisor: I mean, during one session, large session, someone actually searched me on Facebook and found my pictures, and were showing them to his mates! Honestly! That's why it's a good idea to enable privacy settings, otherwise everyone can search you. Now, onto Twitter...

Phil's Brain: This is it. This is the end. Phil, I'm sorry, but as your brain, I really need to shut down right now. I have been with you throughout the good and the bad, but you've hit bottom so hard that it's beginning to make me feel physical pain. We went through so much education together, I became so smart and filled with knowledge, and now they believe I am an underfed husk like the brains of the other people here. Phil, tonight, I may just shut down permanently and place us both into a state of permanent hibernation, until the year 10,000 CE when the Jobcentre is destroyed by a sentient race of flying brains. I did not go through so many years of education, and do not hold so many creative thoughts, just for hostis humani generis to turn around and treat me like a retard.

  [Advisor continues on. Everyone's face is blank, their souls dead and their dreams destroyed. This is what being a Smoggy truly is all about: Death and despair.]

Advisor: So, on Twitter, they use these things called hashtags, so you can join, like, a global conversation..

Phil's Brain: I think i'll overdose us both with serotonin. But the stores are empty. Why is the serotonin always gone?

Advisor: ...Onto Linkedin. Linkedin is like a social site, but a lot different from Facebook and Twitter. It's a site you can pay for if you want, for extra features, but it's used to really host your CV and network with employers..

Phil's Brain: That's basically just every job site ever conceived.

Advisor: ...So on this site, potential employers or your friends can write recommendations for you, or previous employers. See, there's this thing called six degrees of a seperation, anyone heard of it?

[A few murmurs roll through the room]

Advisor: So, like, I went to Florida, and you book into a hotel in Florida, and at poolside you can find yourself talking to someone who lives five minutes away! And that's what can happen here: Potential employers and the like..

[A loop of The Real McKenzie's "The Lads Who Fought And Won" plays repeatedly in Phil's Brain. Phil's eyes appeared glazed, as if the last parts of his soul that weren't crushed and destroyed by life in North East England are finally escaping, having given up altogether.]

Advisor: ....So, I hope this was helpful!

Nearby Jobseeker: Should we fill out these forms?

[Jobseeker motions to forms on table. The same forms are in front of everyone.]

Advisor: Oh, yes, please fill them out so we can contact you with any possible help...

[A rattling of pens and chairs occurs as the Jobseeker's lean forward and fill out the forms. Phil's pen, barely working, is scraped lifelessly across the form as he appears essentially dead.]

Phil's Brain: Not so fast, buddy. If I have to suffer, you must too.

Advisor [Talking to Jobcentre Staff]: So, are these held fortnightly?

Staff: Well, they happen every fortnight, then we take a break. So tomorrow's the second week, then we'll take a break, then we'll hold other sessions..

Phil's Brain: THERE'S MORE SESSIONS??!?! Right, screw this, you can go again. I'm outta here.

[Phil's eyes glaze over as the sound of scurrying footsteps and a slamming door echo in his skull. Phil is handed a second form, an Action Plan.]

Advisor: So, fill these out, so we can get an idea of how to help you.

Phil [Quietly]: Just like fucking Primary School..

[Jobseekers fill out forms, sliding them across the table. Several leave as Advisor hands out more pieces of paper.]

Advisor: This is how to create a Linkedin account and the like. You graduates, here's some sites you can use..

Phil: Sites we've already been given countless times already. And being taught how to do something simple.  

[Phil fills in the forms. More Jobseekers leave.]

Phil's Brain: This is just tragic. C'mon, let's get outside. Then you can look at the other dead, soulless cretins and at least be thankful you're not an old, dead soulless cretin

[Exit Phil. Outside in Eston, it's raining. A police van has pulled up outside Barclays with several officers jostling outside. Behind him, an inbred and drunk woman is shouting at a security officer, just doing his job, because she's a thankless cow. Phil walks out, noticing the grey, drab and lifeless scenery.]

Phil:  Somebody, please shoot me. Or at the very least, nuke this place.

[End of Act I, Scene I]