Thursday 27 April 2017

Every Day is on Shifting Sands

Just read the local rag. The headline: an ex serviceman commits suicide. He couldn't cope.

Who can live like that?

There is no security in this society. One day you can be financially secure, the next you are dependent on the generosity of aggrieved millionaires who, for long ages in this country, have cornered the seat of power. They control the education establishments that are little more than breeding pits for government. They learn the special handshakes that move them, like fat chess pieces, across the board that is our society. Guess who the pawns are.

Who can live like that?

If you are out of work every day is on shifting sands. You are running just to stand still, just to stay in place. Yours is the lot of people who would otherwise be peers and comrades were it not for artifical barriers that separate us. These are the administrators of a system they do not control that keeps them frightened. To process that they must persecute us. They must make us jump through the most trivial of hoops.

Ours is a system that deliberately seeks to undermine the lot of those it was deisnged to help, and those it was designed to help have no opportunity to steer the policies that govern it. Again those policies are in the hands of the most powerful. People that will never need social security or welfare, but who are the most aggrieved about its existence. People who already benefit from the public purse in considerable ways: tax avoidance, tax reductions, subsidies, corporate benefits, expenses, and so on. But those are acceptable perks when it comes to the working rich. Or even, in the case of those who earn so much they can work but hours per year, the not-so-working rich.

Who can live like that?

Sooner or later this system will have to give way. It cannot hold. I do not believe humans can exist in this way. Perhaps Labour's seemingly inevitable demise will spur on some form of change, but change there must be.

Are we to become a sad little island, anchored off the coast of former allies now adrift in a sea of bitter division and sanitised past glory? Who can really say we were glorious when our empire was built on blood and bigotry. Perhaps this is our just deserts. We are to become the sick old man off the coast of western Europe, a bedlam ruled by impotent monarchs and political chancers who parade business credentials like beguiling toys, waved in front of those they deem inferior in order to secure power. The cult of John Galt bred to power in the stockbroker belt and the shires of a country that was once proud to care about its weakest constituents.

Now we live in fear that our independence will be taken and sold to the American private health insurance market in the name of support, while our children can look forward to Christmas meals provided by foodbanks, attending failings schools as starved as they are. Parents forced into zero hours contracts to bolster the profit margins of fat tyrants just so they can have the money to travel to the south of France and brag about how their squalid gulags sell the best sweatshop-sewn products in the developed world.

Pull up the drawbridge they say, so we can lock out the world outside. Full of people who want a piece of our glory. If only they knew.

Tuesday 25 April 2017

Yet Again, There Is No Help (part infinite)

How many different ways are there to say the same thing, and make the same point?

There just isn't help.

At all.

At.

All.

After a night of no sleep, and a sweaty subconsciousness pricking and intensifying my fear of a Tory majority, I decide to make a GP appointment to get a referral to the Primary Care Liaison Service for mental health. These are supposed to be the experts, unfortunately the GP can't guarantee they will listen. The main reason for this is that Positive Step (see my Stepping Out posts) have been given monopoly over provision.

I fully expect that, as I'm not schizophrenic or psychotic, so they won't be interested.

What is most frustrating is that, the more limited the options, the more disinterested the doctor. They have less to offer and so the less they seem to care. This is a weird and disturbing corollary.

The message here is: depression (aka "low mood") is not a serious issue. The pervasive level of stress in our society has increased such that those like me with what is now deemed a relatively less significant issue can expect no help. Or at best, a cursory service that at best pays lip service to mental help. Not one that gets to the heart of why people have these problems, dealing with issues of isolation, lack of opportunity, and of course struggling to survive in a world where the powerful control the purse strings.

So as this pressure increases, like a rising water level in the bottom of a well, we can only expect this to get worse. Given the nightmare of a prospective Tory majority, this is all the more likely. There is, of course, little chance of unseating the Tories locally. They dominate in this area through the landed gentry and all the 'independent businessmen' (which also explains how UKIP has done so well locally, depressingly).

So there was that, and, when I got back from the GP, a nice brown envelop on the doormat informing me that I have a Work Focussed Interview booked for me on the 8th in the afternoon.

Ain't life great - and I feel I have no control over mine.

Monday 24 April 2017

Oh Snap! part 1

So there's a general election.

Again.

Which means there will be a Tory government.

Again.

Let's face it, Britain is lost to the right wing screaming xenophobic aristocratic pauper hating desperadoes who use deception and mendacity to ascend to power.

There really is no choice: as much as I would like to see revolution in this society, led by the people for the people (no Chairman Mao's thank you), it isn't going to happen. We weren't going to have that happening in 2020; we certainly ain't gonna get it in six weeks.

We must therefore do whatever it takes to oust the Tories. What they have wrought in 7 years, with or without LibDem help, has proved more than enough. We cannot take anymore. There must be an end so that we can stop the bleeding.

To that end it's got to be, where possible, a Labour vote. Of course since our system is such a blighted mess that won't always be possible. It may even be necessary to return one of those vile yellow bellies. I hate the fact I've had to say that, and I only do so because the current situation is so bad that the Tories have got to go. We cannot take five more years of this. That is not an option.

I don't think much of Labour, I think Corbyn is a fundamentally decent guy but he's trapped in a system that will bleed him dry. Labour are beyond hopelessly divided, as I write we have Tory Blair wheeled out, by the forces of international capital, to call for a vote for anyone but Labour! He is the British Putin, looking clearly to capitalise on what I dismally predict will be Labour's downfall to retake the throne. A Lannister always Blairs his debts.

However, while I think we must do what we can to oust these bastards, I do not believe it will be enough. I dare not. That feeling in 2015 after Miliband gave up the ghost was horrible. This time, if Labour cannot do it, will be a thousand times worse.

Brexit is the giant elephant in the room. It has divided the country to the point wehre anyone who dares express an opinion more nuanced than "IN YOUR FACE EUROPE!" is called a traitor. Who on earth uses the word traitor seriously in modern Britain? Such people are intellectually bereft thugs. We have no idea what will happen under a Tory led hard Brexit, which they will surely pursue if they perceive a mandate from a successful re election. The Tories are headbangers over the issue of Europe, they will stand at the shores of the channel shouting "up yours Johnny Foreigner!" while believing they are owed, by soe divine right of kings, a trade deal at least as good as the one they want us out of.

Corbyn could have stolen the march by arguing a working class, people led, case for a Brexit. Now he's caught between both sides and will suffer because of it - never mind the daily savaging at the hands of a capitalist press run by right wing media robber barons.

If Labour fails, and for my own sanity I must accept this reality (aim low, shoot high), I don't think he will stand down. This will lead to months of bloodletting that a resurgent Tory majority (which it doesn't have currently) will capitalise on. We know they have form in using every inch of arcane Parliamentary law to get their way on all things. Labour will not fight fire with fire, it will be too bsuy dealing with an equally resurgent Blairite coup, probably led by the arch vampire himself.

Britain is on course for disaster. Brexit will not be the end, but the beginning of the end - and this is the beginning of that beginning!

Despite that, there is a reasonable possibility that Labour won't lose too many MP's. I see few reasons why, so soon after the last election, people would want to kick them out locally. But that depends again on the spectre of Brexit. There are also plenty of communities that championed Brexit who may now wake up to the fact they were dependent on EU support and face a very uncertain future.

I do not believe our politics are fit for purpose, and I struggle to see Corbyn winning. However the alternative is just so serious that, for the sake of a few minutes out of your day to tick a box on a piece of paper, it has to be worth trying. What he will achieve if elected will certainly be minimal and reformist at best. That is not what is ideal and it isn't my preference. It is merely what is necessary.

Friday 21 April 2017

Stepping Out part 3

You know the more this continues, the less interesting and helpful it becomes.

After last week's bus related detour and this weeks annual leave, I was contacted by Positive Step to find out that next week's appointment is also being cancelled. This because of complex internal reasons...maybe. I don't actually know because they wouldn't tell me.

I did complain and got a call back from a manager today who told me, having been appraised of the situation (itself a surprise!) that I was offered telephone appointments by my 'not-a-doctor' person. This is news to me. I decided I would pursue this path as it seems far too a herculean task to actually get to and complete these ridiculous appointments.

I suspect half the appointment will be taken up with them having to go through their assessment form with me over the phone. Since they can't give me the form and have me do this at home it is going to prove to be a complete farce. You might think they could just, I don't know, talk to you. But they insist on this form and it's arbitrary numerical representation, presumably for funding reasons.

And breaking news! They just rang me back to offer me an appointment (with someone else of course, because who cares about continuity) on the 2nd of May which will be a fortnight's time. I can't really imagine this is going to work over the phone in all honesty, but since these appointments aren't really about the individual, rather than prescribing a singular process in half an hour increments totalling 3 hours I don't hold out much hope.

Oh and there's a general election, which the Tories will win because Britain has lost the plot.

Sunday 16 April 2017

The Sun Never Shines

Liverpool has the right idea...ban Scumbag reporters from football matches.

I'd go a step further and throw them off a cliff  and ban the Sun altogether. Free speech is a wonderful dream, but in our society it just doesn't work. We don't let people shout fire in a busy marketplace, etc. Why should we let millionaire news barons taint the public psyche?

And yet we do, as evidenced by the seemingly consequence-free hateful hijinks of Kelvin Mackenzie, a professional bigot and arsehole who, while lambasting the unemployed for their perceived fecklessness, accepts no responsibility for the shit he spews.

However it seems a recent 'article', vomited from his own hate glands, has landed him in 'hot water'. It won't last though, there is no way the Scum is ever going to sack him. Why would they? This is all part of the plan. These articles are not published accidentally, nor are they written so. They are all according to the vile agenda these vicious rags have to whip up anger and play people against each toher. To that end, Mackenzie is their star striker.

If he were to get sacked it would actually play into the sense of oppression these articles foster. It will be the same as someone like Jeremy Clarkson getting fired from the 'loony lefty' BBC (not because he physically assaulted a colleague). It is this sense of oppression that is preventing people from seeing how the ruling elite - including and especially the media barons that run rampant - are manipulating them as a group. All of us.

We need to stand together and tell the Murdochs of the world to take their rancid toilet paper screamsheets and fuck off.

Jobcentre Minus?

Came across this article in the Mirror, regarding plans to 'divest' or close Jobcentres.

Of the two centres near me, one is listed as planned for closure. Ironically it is the one that, thanks to the bus service previously 'divesting' its service from that route, I can't get to with any reliability (unless I want to sit on a bench for two hours either way). This doesn't really help me because it happens to be a preferable (i.e. quieter) choice; the other one is in a bigger town and is thus a lot busier.

I don't like busier anymore than I trust the ageing overweight security guards to keep me safe if it all kicks off.

When I was last there, it was to pay off a budgeting loan (they don't exist anymore) from the DWP. I had previously rung the Budgeting Loans department to ask and was told that I could attend and make a payment in person. I happened to have the means to pay it off and thought it was the best course of action (you may well ask why I'd want to hand money to the DWP). Of course what happens when I turn up? "Oh we can't accept payments". Instead, and bizarrely, I'm told to use their phones to ring their office to ask them if the person telling me they can't accept payments...can accept payments.

To coin a phrase, I shit you not.

I haven't been there in a few years. I don't really ever want to go back. I just thought I'd mention the situation and people can see (scroll down the article to find the link to the list) what might be happening locally.

Of course for people that have to manage their money and struggle with travel this is yet another issue to have to deal with. It never seems to end.

Thursday 13 April 2017

Converations with Men in Ill Fitting Suits

So it's ridiculous enough that Bristol has a mayor (because he's a complete waste of space), but now there's to be a 'Metro Mayor'. Another pointless position to milk the gravy train, invented by god knows who. Jobs for the boys. This boy in particular is former LibDem scumbag, and Bristol MP, Stephen Williams.

Now that the Coalition has dissolved, and the Tories turned on their former lackeys, Mr Williams wants to get his snout back in the trough. He was outside College Green today with a sad little stall and a couple of students handing out equally sad leaflets. No one really wants a Metro Mayor, other than the people who want to be Metro Mayor.

I asked him some questions. I mentioned the Bedroom Tax as a hideous legacy of his party in government. He wasn't best pleased, but bizarrely tried to defend it claiming that his constituency was filled with people inadequately housed in accommodation too small for their needs. This is utterly bizarre: if people are inadequately housed then the answer is to provide more housing, not penalise one section of those in social housing by depriving them of the means to pay their bloody rent!

Unfortunately Mr Williams is too stupid to see this and went on to make the spurious and laughable claim that through the Parliament the LibDems always voted against the Bedroom Tax. This is horseshit: Stephen Webb (now Sir Stephen Webb, knighted for services to the Tories) was one of it's architects! He loved the damn thing.

Moving on I asked him whether he thought putting the buses back into the hands of the public. He dismissed this immediately. I asked him why and all he could do was give some bluster about 'the state is bad at running things'. Unlike First Bus, of course - private companies never run things badly, and are never motivated to cutting corners!

This is what we can expect from the political class. They aren't interested in anything progressive, are addicted to their capitalist dogma, and don't like discussing issues with plebs.

And they don't seem able to find a suit that fits.

Stepping Out Part 2

This isn't going to be much of an entry. Reason being there wasn't a part 2.

Thanks to our wonderful public transport system the bus route was cancelled due to roadworks that noone bothered to make public. I only found out when I got on the bus and asked for a ticket. No notice nor sign.

So I had to cancel. Then I found out that there are also roadworks next week as well. But that's ok because the 'I'm-not-a-doctor' adviser is on annual leave, which I didn't know about until I rang to tell them I couldn't do next week either. Their communication is as poor as the bus service's ability to inform me of planned service changes.

So it will be 3 weeks until I'm seen again. By the service that's promoted as the only means for people to get help.

I don't really see this going anywhere. They still owe me two quid from the letter they wrote but didn't bother to pay postage on. That turned up with a demand from the PO for the postage. Until I paid I didn't even know who the sender was (they can't tell you until you pay).


Thursday 6 April 2017

Anxious Anarchism

Originally I called this blog 'Quacking Plums' for reasons best left unexplained. I think it had something to do with Alan Partridge, though I've long since forgotten what the connection is.

For equally oblique reasoning I'm now calling it Anxious Anarchism, since it's likely going to focus on mental health in the age of Tory slaughter (which is to say, not the slaughtering of Tories, more's the pity - don't sue me, I mean that metaphorically. Although..) under Prime Minister Razor Mayhem's reign of terrible incompetence.

By 2020, if any of us survive that long, this country will be as unrecognisable as the reason behind 'Quacking Plums'. At that point, if you see me in the psyche ward, just nod and pass the pills...

Tuesday 4 April 2017

Stepping Out, Part 1

(As mental health support locally is so shit, I've had to go back on the tiny carousel of help that comprises Positive Step and nothing else. PS are a company specialising in regarding every mental health problem presented as 'low mood' and a single quick fix in the form of CBT. Let's listen in...)

So I had depression and anxiety before I went to see 'Positive Step' for the first (by which I mean second) appointment.

But now I have depression and anxiety - AND HOMEWORK!

How could this not be a 'Positive Step'!

By the way, the reason it's the second appointment is that the advisor couldn't get her train in time last time, so it had to be conducted telephonically. NOt that it seems to make any difference; this is what she calls 'guided self help' (that is, homework). It doesn't seem to make any difference whether it's done in person or not since you aren't actually given any concrete help. Plus, I seem to have filled in the same mental health self-assessment form three times in a week - AND I have to fill it in every session. Each session is only 30 minutes long which means very little time is left over for being helped anyway. 

But then, they don't actually give you any help so it doesn't really matter, does it! Hooray!

As a bonus, I also have to catch a bus that costs me £1.70 each way for a journey of less than a mile. The actual surgery itself is not on the bus route and half the journey is on foot. While the rest of the time I'm sat waiting for the bus back which seems to turn up when it likes. £3.40 might not sound like a lot of money, but if you're trying to avail yourself of the, frankly pitiful, amount of help that's available, it all adds up. Currently I'm spending clost fo fifty quid out of every ESA payment just on buses. Is there any help with this? Yes! Can I access that help? Of course not! (There's a bus pass for people who are patients of the local mental health team - the same ones who decided not to help me with my suspected aspergers and then lied twice - and you also have to have 'severe' mental health issues.)

At this point, the only thing keeping me functional is sarcasm; yes, dearest reader, it's all a colossal load of bollocks.

So, Positive Step. They are purveyors of the nation's favourite cheap mood intervention: Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. Poundland psychiatry.

I think it has its place - mainly for dealing with mundane phobias and small issues. But for those of us whose state of mind is inextricably bound up in the nature of the poisonous society we now live, under the cosh of a greedy self serving ruling elite, this approach does little. Instead of working toward helping people deal with issues of alienation and isolation, I'm given a self help booklet and my issues are corralled  traduced under the easy moniker of 'low mood'. We of course can't use clinical terminology anymore than, I suspect, the advisor can call herself a doctor (a bit like those nice people at ATOS and Maximus).

Now I might seem uncharitable; I'm sure my advisor means well. I This criticism is aimed at the system, not the individual. 

So instead of actual help from a human being who cares and wants to really help another human being - which is what this should be about, building human contact in an age where that is denuded taxed and denied - we get homework. A booklet entitled 'Get Active, Get Free', as if curing depression is that simple. Though perhaps it would be if capitalism got in the way. Alongside this, I get 6 half hour sessions during which I will have to answer the same questionnaire repeatedly and then fill out diaries of various kinds talking about what I did that week, what I wanted to do but couldn't because of 'low mood', and to plan activities for the week ahead. Not sure how I'm supposed to plan anything when I haven't the money to travel anywhere, have no one to talk to when I get there, and no money for the things that exist where I might travel to. I tried explaining the bus fare situation, but naturally they have no answers.

In conclusion I don't have high hopes for this. It's just the usual self help busywork. I'm sure there's a grain of truth amongst all this 'guided self help', but it's just too easy to offer a service that intends to encompass the depth of a person's negative mindset and mental health problems in three hours, calling it 'low mood'. I mean really. Unfortunately there isn't much after that. It's six sessions and...bye then! Ironically the mental health specialist assigned to the local surgery (for about two weeks, unbeknownst to me and anyone else that was sent to her by the rest of the useless surgery team) thought CBT wouldn't be the best course of action. She advised 'CCT' (aka Client Centred Therapy). I did actually try that only to find that after three weeks (for which I paid money) the counsellor decided she had nothing to offer and that, in her opinion, CBT would be better. 


Fantastic!

I'm Back!

Years and years ago, before anyone had ever heard of disease and pandemics, I started this blog. I gave it a stupid name from an Alan Partri...