Crashed – Christmas 2010 – Crispian St Boulevard

Here’s a piece Crispian wrote for his blog in 2010.

It’s supposed to bring a smile…..

We love you 🙂

As my regular readers will know, I’ve had something of an “Annus horriblus” to quote Her Maj. Or as my Chav brothers would say, a “fuck off” year.. Having had all my work dry up, it was inevitable I’d have to sign on, and frankly I was dreading it. There’s such a stigma attached to it, thanks to the gutter media ( and for me that’s all newspapers and tv ) and even my closest sensible friends drone on about “dole queue scroungers” and “single Mothers”.
Single Mothers……hmmm…..well I’ve coupled with and known a good number of them, and as far as I know none of them were sleeping on mattresses stuffed full of £20 notes. In fact, to the contrary, most of them live meagre, hand-to-mouth existences.

I consider myself a “genuine” case, if that’s appropriate? I’ve been struggling financially since the Summer, and my earnings have averaged less than £100 a week, so……

I simply couldn’t fault the staff at the job centre. They were friendly, polite and very helpful, and unbelievably I would label signing on as a stress free and relatively pleasant experience.
At the end of my time there the chap dealing with my claim said I should ask the front desk for the number to try and obtain a Crisis loan, as I ticked all the eligibility boxes for one.

 And that’s when a dark shadow fell over proceedings……


I said to my audiologist, whose name is Sister Ray, ( whoa! a real life Velvet Underground character, spooky! ) the telephone conversation with the Crisis loan people reminded me of the Monty Python sketch, the Spanish Inquisition. “Are you living in a residential home?” “Do you have any savings?” “Do you like Wig Wags or Quavers?” “Blur or Oasis? Discuss.” Oh fuck off will ya, I’m skint, please give me a cheque! But no, the fucker droned on for over a half an hour, then put me on hold for 15 minutes, waaah!!! He asked me how I pay my gas and electric, I told him via direct debit, “oh well we can’t give you anything unless you pay via a card meter”, thanks a fucking bunch, next time I’ll remember to swiftly change my utilities to the most expensive tariff to be eligible.

 “Have you any food in the house?”, well thankfully Jeeves had just stocked the larder for Christmas, a brace of pheasants, ducks, a whole deer and a crate of my favourite champers, Chateau Marlmore, ’73. A very fine vintage… you fuckwit, I’m skint, I’ve got nowt, ok? “Well, we can offer you £90 for a 14 day period……” how generous  (anyone would think they are paying you from their own personal bank account, not from money the government has robbed off the likes of me and you these long years past!) “but you’ll have to be really careful with this money, because you may not get any more for some time”. Oh really. So now not only are you laying a guilt trip on me for taking your personal cash from you, but you’re suggesting I’m irresponsible with my finances. Careful with it? Of course I’ll be careful with it. As soon as I get off the phone I’m straight to the nearest crack house, via the Co-op of course, to buy a crate of Jack Daniels, how’s that for fucking careful?

Boys from Brazil? bollocks, they’re living in England mate, training people for the Crisis fund call centre. Except these trainers ain’t regular SS officers, no, these bastards got thrown out of the Gestapo, for being extra cruel!
God knows this country’s in a state, mostly as a result of the criminals who rule our society robbing and stealing from all of us, without discrimination. And then they have the audacity to tell us to be thankful for a tiny sum of money that they give back to us, when they stole it from us in the first place!

Well, I got the £90. I had to go to the PO nearest the Jobcentre……along with all the other junkies, drunkies and assorted Chavs (including a very fat person dressed in a wrong way round baseball cap and shell suit, talking like a black person, they must be dreadfully disappointed/and or confused when they look in the mirror) and boy was I pleased to get back on the bus that was a mere 20 minutes late. Sadly there were a few others, older people, that didn’t make it, as they’d frozen to death in the -3 wind, but hey, at least they died amongst friends!



Leave a Comment

To prevent spam, the first time you post a comment on this blog, it will be held for approval. After that, as long as you use the same name and email address, your comments will appear straight away.