On Tuesday I was made redundant. This really sucks. The panic and the crying have mostly stopped. I’ve handed my notice in to my landlord and will be moving back in with my Wee Mammy until I get a new job and get back on my feet. My entire life has shifted and it’s very unpleasant.
It took ten minutes for me to become a shirker. A skiver. A scourge on this country and every decent, law-abiding taxpayer who is now forced to give me hundreds of pounds a week so I can sit on my fat arse and watch Jeremy Kyle. These are unkind times..
What happened to me was not my fault. This was not a “lifestyle choice”. I did not wake up one morning and think, “Oh, I know, I could do with an extended holiday courtesy of the British taxpayer”. But I am now a statistic, someone else for the government to point the finger at, blame for the deficit, blame for the national debt, the rain and whatever else David Cameron can think of.