Skip to main content


Showing posts from June, 2011

Goodbye Hayley, Good Riddance

Professional at all times...

Yes, it was the last in the series of my favourite televisual trainwreck, the Fairy Jobmother. I'm sure, in these relentlessly tough economic times, she'll be back.

I've made my feelings clear about the show and this final episode clung to that formula I've come to know and hate. There was one difference though, the lady with mental health issues. What can I say; why was she even allowed on the show? Clearly not ready - and yet compelled to wander the streets of Southend with a big sign saying 'I want a job'. Good grief, it's sickening how low Channel 4 will stoop these days. She couldn't cope and left the proceedings part way through, never to be heard from again, not even during the epilogue. Erased out of existence. I also thought that Hayley's attitude could have been better: she's not giving up, she's not having a wobble - she's not well, and that isn't a crime nor is it some symptom of a lacking char…

I hate capitalism

Signing time again. Interestingly, though interestingly not, no problems to report. The stairs remain heavily fortified, but now the Jobcentre is on Twitter. Not a bad idea I suppose, though I wish they'd advertise their jobs properly. Not much to report then.
When I were a lad at school, one popular method of keeping us in line (IE doing our homework) was to warn us thus: 'do you want to end up working in a factory?', as if to suggest that not achieving to the best of our ability would damn us to a life of drudgery. That working in manual labour was to be avoided and scorned. Pretty ridiculous, though I wouldn't want to do that for a living - but those that do shouldn't be made pariahs or paid poorly etc.
How far we have fallen then that the unemployed are then taught the exact opposite.
There is such a moral and emotional aspect to people's view of the unemployed and those on welfare that discussion is impossible. People should be grateful for the opportunity to…

The Church of Jobology

This post will be a work in progress, for now I want to make this first point in response to the third (and I presume final) episode in the televisual bullshitathon that is the Fairy Jobmother. That point is this: watching Taylor interact with that group of damaged young people/young adults was like watching a scientologist. I bet there'd be mileage in sending Derren Brown in to debunk this as he would NLP.
To ask the question 'how does being unemployed make you feel' seems an innocuous or perhaps even obvious question, but it's deeply pernicious. Not surprisingly none answered as I would, which is to say that I don't really have a problem with it (beyond the propaganda war that brainwashes people into believing that the unemployed are scum with idle hands motivated by the devil). Of course there are issues with being unemployed, but there are issues with most life circumstances. Quite why I should feel bad about myself for being unemployed is beyond me. It's a …

The Fairy Jobmatron

On the Guardian site, after the first show of this ridiculous woman's second series I posted this. It's not grammatically sound and I don't really know why I didn't port it over to this blog, but that link presents my vitriol against this ludicrous TV 'show' in all it's grammatically challenged glory.

The second show now confirms to me that Hayley Taylor, in full David Brent guise, is neither an expert in unemployment nor in human contact. How someone can flit from scolding hard faced cow offering tough love as a patronising salve to confidante and councillor in the same camera frame I do not know. I'd be inclined to describe her as almost schizoprhenic. One minute she's giving her 'clients' (in the Hannibal Lecter sense of the word) the willies by talking about how the government plan to make them all work for their benefits while require they still attend their jobsearch responsibilities, then, after one poor girl starts crying, pretends to…


(A song for Lech Walessa by Peter Gabriel).

Five years ago I visited my father in hospital to see him on life support with Pneumonia. When I came back, I heard three local twats shouting abuse at me as they walked by. They didn't know where I'd been; maybe it would have made a difference to their attitude. It's been five years since I discovered there are some where I live that think I'm an alien in a place I'd lived since before they were born. An alien in the sense of being the local oddball - I'm guessing; I've never had the chance to discuss their perceptions with them of course. I'm a figure of fun deserving of mildly cruel nicknames and ridicule. They tell you how to behave, behave as their guest.

Today I visited the GP to help sort out my pursuit for an Asperger's Diagnosis. A convoluted process that will take time. I also explained the stress of dealing with the jobcentre and of the panic attack I had. He said he'd write the Jobcentre a le…

Lucky Break

Once again into the breach dear friends.

Actually things didn't turn out too bad at all. The person I saw, after some typical faffing (up the stairs, down the stairs - two security people are required to facilitate one ascension of the stairs), was reasonably helpful and actually took the liberty of taking a copy f the bus timetable for future reference. Such common sense is shocking!
I signed on with minimal fuss, despite feeling compelled to apply for a management job I neither want (i have no desire to run a health food shop) nor can do; it's responsibility I don't crave at all and I can't see how the JC can penalise me for not wanting it.
If only they'd have booked the appointment (I still have to have to see the special adviser at the start of July) properly to begin with. The JC is it's own worst enemy.
Interestingly I overheard another adviser commenting on the rapid reclaim process, which is to say that, apparently, it no longer exists. If this is true and …


Just rang the jobcentre about tomorrow. I thought that was the best thing to do. No point messing them around, despite being booked an appointment at a time I can't attend. Can't take the chance of turning up late and being left high and dry as regards money. They've booked me a normal signing for 9-50am wherein I will book a fresh appointment with the 'special adviser'.

That's assuming I don't get dicked around tomorrow morning instead. Maybe it's my anxiety based paranoia talking but I can't help wondering if they will.

Everytime I sign on, and this is the crux of what makes the experience so exquisitely awful, is the knowledge that yet again you must prove your worth. It's like a neverending round of the X Factor - you thought you were safe last week Mr Plums, but no, you've got to bring it this week as well - and this week it's Temp Agency Week!

All the effort you made before, no matter how many jobsearch activities or applications (mai…

The Crack in the Window

Do you wear glasses? I do.
If you do, do you ever get those moments when you have something on the lens, a smear or a scratch or a speck, but it's so close you can't see it yet it obscures your vision. You can feel your eye trying to work around it. That's living in our society.
We know things aren't right.
Our sensibilities cannot correctly perceive the crack in the window, but we know it's there. We know it's there because, but for the ruling elite, consensus would agree its existence and a new pane of glass would be fitted. Fixing those cracks is not in the interests of the government. They are as alien to our experience as that crack is to that window.
Last night i heard Digby Jones, champion of 'Britain PLC' (what a way to traduce a nation), defend tax dodging by taking the act of personal gratuity, tipping, and accusing those that partake in that act as consenting to the same act. I find that reprehensible. But then Jones has form after witnessing him…