You know when you are reading a blog post and a phrase jumps out at you, reforms in letters three foot high, and won’t leave your brain for days afterwards? Round and round it goes, giving you no peace. It’s happened to me.
About 27% children in need in Devon have disabilities, double the national average.
Over a quarter of the next generation are already disabled? How many of the remaining 73% of the next generation will become disabled due to industrial accidents, road traffic accidents, medical negligence, sports injuries?
Given that in Devon, in the latest figures, 25% of the present generation work for the state in one form or another, there is also a significant Traveller population, and both children and adult Travellers experience poorer health than any other group in England, at least a constant 20% of the population will be retired and receiving a State pension, and the main non-public employment in the area is the low paid agricultural sector, who exactly is going to support this lot?
Is there a private sector worker in the house? Would he make himself known please?
I was starting to wonder just how much this munificence was costing our lowly paid Devonian. I turned to the government on-line ‘Benefits Advisor’. Do try it, it’s an eye opener, I promise you. You will find you have along wait until your browser connects; must be the sheer weight of numbers trying it, eh?
I started with premise that I was, truthfully, a pensioner on basic state pension. So was my husband. Wallop, before I left the first page they had awarded me another £55 a week. And another £400 towards my winter fuel bills, indeed they were anxious that I applied…
Then they wanted to know about savings. Hmmn, well what if I sold up here and bought the most f***ing expensive house in the whole of Devon so that I had barely any savings left? No problem, they’d shoot me straight over to the ‘no savings page’. (I did have to make a quick detour to buy myself a Challon kitchen, have all my curtains made by Chelsea Textiles, and refurnish the house at Wesley Barrell, but Hell, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do – Mr G helped, he nipped into the nearest Range Rover dealer, ordered every extra he could think of, and then booked a cruise to the Caribbean – but between us we managed it, less than £16,000 in hard cash).
I was a bit worried about the council tax on this luxurious pile, but the government still had its hand in our private sector worker’s pocket – he could pay the council tax for me, all £60 a week of it.
They were concerned about my health of course. Did I have difficulty walking up the stairs because I’d lost one leg or two? Was I registered blind or partially sighted? Only had one good eye all my life, but it’s never occurred to me to ‘register’ as partially sighted, missed a trick there – but what is this? Am I suffering from a terminal disease? Well, yes I am, tick the box – and open Sesame…
All I have to do is give them a ‘letter’ from a ‘Doctor’ saying that I am; no medical, no means test – I just wandered into Utopia. My ‘benefits advisor’ is happy to tell me that I can continue to live in my beautifully furnished mega-expensive pile, drive round in my Range Rover, and our lowly private sector worker will support me to the tune of £277 a week, pay my council tax, give me another £77 Disability Benefit, pay my prescription charges, pay for my dental treatment, pay for my travel expenses to and fro hospital, (that Range Rover eats fuel) – well Good Golly Miss Molly!
What it is to have a British passport eh?
Now, could you explain to me, very slowly, why I shouldn’t be doing this? Surely one more on the gravy train won’t over-burden Devon?
Mr G is waiting avidly for your replies…