Licence and registration

Licence and registration

 

As I sit impassively staring out of the window of Café Nero on my lunch, I find my mind wandering following a comprehensive tour of the news articles on my phone. I admit I gorged on The Guardian’s plate of reasonably written dishes, picked at a couple of the misguided morsels thrown up by the red tops and then I endured a nauseating five minutes, force feeding myself drivel from The Daily Mail. Bloody Piers Morgan at it again the scamp, he normally reduces women to tears with his clothes off. I’m not trying to be impartial; I’m simply trying to understand the other side of the coin. New Year’s resolution and all that.  It won’t last long, far too fucking hard.

Meryl Streep is over rated. Yes Donald, she would be to you without the capacity to appreciate someone with a discernible talent. No, this isn’t going to be another rant about Captain Fuckstick as he embarks on his maiden voyage at the helm of USS Oblivion. I am resisting the urge to berate him, instead my thoughts come as I observe my comrades going about their day hunting sausage rolls and gathering delights from Poundland.

Here we see the lesser spotted Donny Soldier rolling a cigarette after grazing on a sausage and bean bake. As he tightens the paper around the lush amber leaf notice the distinctive markings on his forearm. These are here to remind him of the name of his offspring, his date of birth and the bright coloration serves to attract the female of the species, he is man. He is virile. Or is that vile?

How are there so many people about? I know move with the times, not everyone has a 9 to 5. They might work nights. They might work a varied shift pattern. They might only work weekends. They might work in front of a webcam. Woof. I can’t get away from overwhelming urge to categorise. Post work. At work. Can’t work. Won’t work.

Post work. Fair, if they’re retired they’re killing time perusing the aisles of Doncaster’s high street stores, gets them out of the house I suppose.

At work. They are having an amble through town to get them away from their desk maybe a late or early lunch, also completely fair.

Brings me onto can’t work. They are physically unable to work because of an illness or disability. Tricky one this just because you can get out the house and go shopping doesn’t mean you are able to work. I mean in most cases you think it would but maybe they’re struggling with depression, anxiety, debilitating arthritis, chronic back pain or could it simply be a case of ergophobia? Don’t generalise, not everyone on disability benefit has a fear of work. No. But it has to be a proportion doesn’t it? I mean look at them all, smoking, vaping, supping a can of Monster, eating a steak bake and buying sales shit they don’t need on a weekday afternoon.

Finally we have the won’t work bunch. Ah if only it was a bunch. A bunch of bananas is what, five? This is a bloody epidemic by those proportions. These people don’t want to work, I know this. Why don’t they want to work? Are they starving? No, clearly not. Are they cold and exposed? Far from it, they have a delightful two up two down council house and a free bus pass. Would they rather spend their day in front of a TV than in a warehouse for a few more quid? Damn straight wouldn’t you? Are they skint? Well they have a smart phone; no doubt a reasonably sized flat screen TV, they’re donning a rather resplendent tracksuit and completing the look with a decent pair of Nike Air Huarache. Not skint then by their own admission.

Looking at the scene in front of me a little more objectively I think about the phrase that all men are created equal. I side with Charles Darwin on this one. Are they bollocks. There is no way I can believe that some of these fine specimens on parade, walking through Doncaster town centre were born with the same capabilities, intelligence, empathy or inherent talent for activities as some others earning their corn. Genetics is not a level playing field; they drew the short straw in this regard and because of this it is only right that they suckle at the teat of the nanny state. I’m not saying that we are all at the mercy of our genes. I mean it could be those behavioural problems spawned from neglect, abuse, an addict for a mother, the usual stuff. It’s not their fault, not entirely. They do though also have a choice and you’re not telling me they can’t hold down a job order picking down at the Range Warehouse. Plenty of Eastern European lads seem to be able to stomach it. Nah, they choose a can of Strongbow at midday on a Tuesday instead.

How do these unfortunates exist in society on no wage though? Seventy bones a week, pay your lecky, gas, visit Iceland, get your backi in and you’re surely spent. Happily relinquishing the will to work. But, how on earth have they got enough to venture in to town on a blustery Tuesday and spunk cash on a walkers multipack, some half price selection boxes and chips and gravy for lunch. Maybe not academic, but this breed of shirker is far from stupid. A simple visit to their soon to be privatised GP sees them spin a yarn and box off some additional income. A mandate to waste their weekday afternoon in the local Wetherspoons. ‘I’m struggling to sleep.’ ‘I don’t enjoy owt.’ ‘I can’t get out of bed in a morning.’ ‘I keep thinking about hurting me sen.’ Ding ding ding we have a winner. Their GP may smell a rat but they have to act on this information, they don’t want blood on their hands do they Mr Hunt. Prescription written, complimentary medication collected (nice one 7 zopiclone), sick note produced and disability claim processed. Kerching. Mine’s a pint of smooth . ‘We’re having chicken dippers toneet… round the kids up, just mine not yours Chelsie’.

“If the misery of the poor be caused not by the laws of nature, but by our institutions, great is our sin.”

They aren’t miserable Charles. Then there are the kids. Those poor bloody kids. Brought in to this world on the back of a night on the Rose and a few blue WKDs. Romance isn’t dead. Ninety times out of a hundred I suspect a convenient accident.

The last time our Smiggy had a meeting for his JSA claim they had found a job that they wanted to put him forward for but unfortunately he wasn’t eligible as he didn’t have a driving licence. The shift patterns included nights, he was unable to get there, no night bus. Not that it mattered because he didn’t want the job anyway. Our smiggy doesn’t get along with them Polaks do you pal? ‘No do I fuck, busy bastards lot of’em I’d rather sit around the house wanking.’

“A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life.”

Typical Smiggy, dirty bugger. Now he could get a licence for a car but it would cost a small bloody fortune. He’d have to have lessons, learn the rules of the road, apply his learning practically, theoretically and pass a few tests and these aren’t cheap. This is a prerequisite to ensure that all of the vehicles on the public highways are driven safely and responsibly. Makes sense. You can’t have Smiggy and his bird belting through DTC on a Friday night in his mates classic Vauxhall Nova, keyed up to the nines supping from a bottle of Glens can you? No, bloody dangerous that. He needs to have a licence, cars can be lethal weapons. Can’t watch TV without a licence either, bloody licence for everything these days. No fishing and you’ll need one for that chuffing massive Stafi you’re after Smiggy love.

Begs the obvious question then, as I survey the alarmingly long queue at Crawshaw’s (cooked chickens for £3 in the afternoon #winning). How are these people allowed to bring another person into the world without as much as an assessment in front of a medical professional? I mean if some of the kids I can see on the high street were any more inbred they’d be a fucking sandwich. Not their fault.

Whoah what the hell is this? Inbred? You off your nut you can’t go dictating to people what hoops to jump through to have kids. Why the fuck not?

We have got to where we are today in evolutionary terms because as Darwin put it we are the most adaptable to change and we have survived famine and disease as well as countless other potential ends. We as a collective are the result of a distilled gene pool. We can’t simply cut off those with a low IQs or behavioural problems can we? No, we can’t that would be rather cruel. We can ensure the current gene pool isn’t being diluted further though and society isn’t perpetually supporting those who do nothing but withdraw. Take, take, take. It’s free money!

“One general law, leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely, multiply, vary, let the strongest live and the weakest die.”

No Charles we can’t let them die, I’ve covered this. We feed them , clothe them, provide them with health care, house them and give them a few quid for a pint and some ciggies . We have varied enough in my opinion and I think we have struck up a political class capable of protecting the vulnerable, systematically being unpicked at present here on the Albion. Here’s to hoping that c*** Hunt will contract MRSA when he finally decides to visit a hospital ward sometime before the next election. Yes, more could be done and I hope this continues but can we not be a little more forward thinking about what genes we bring to the table for future generations and what environment children in society are brought up in?

I advocate a licence if people want to have children. There it is, I said it. potential parents take lessons to learn the essentials, what folic acid is, why smoking and drinking whilst pregnant is harmful, why changing your childs nappy more than once a day is good practice etc. They ascertain a basic understanding of the cost of clothing, food, they detail their income, discuss their personal life, relationships with people, alcohol and substances. Finally they have a psychological assessment if they satisfy those assessing them they are granted a licence. It would be long winded but let’s remember they are committing to providing for another person for a minimum of eighteen years. They have to ensure their children have a strong moral compass and  that they are educated – I’m not talking school here. If they can’t look after themselves properly they don’t procreate. Simple. Yes it would be expensive but would we not as a society realise the benefits in the longer term? I think we would. Might even offset what we spend on benefits in time and reduce the unemployment rate.

Is this really that left or right field? I mean only today Jezzer has proposed a tax rate of 100% on the highest earners in our society, Christ. Yes Jeremy you are right the pay disparity is perverse but you are not the person to be running with this, not now. You need to bolster your credibility first you donut. I’ll be leader of the opposition by Christmas with this forward thinking.

You’ve got to hand it to them existing, taking the piss, doing fuck all, playing the system or whatever you want to call it they know what they are doing. I do take issue with them diluting the gene pool and getting the state to fund their survival but what can one man do. Fucking scallies.

“Intelligence is based on how efficient a species became at doing the things they need to survive.” – Charles Darwin.

Shit.