Social Care Isn’t Broken — It’s Been Abandoned

Andy Burnham, sleeves rolled up like a man about to fix a boiler he’s never seen before, announces he’s going to “transform NHS beds for older patients.” Translation: move the furniture around and hope the queue magically shortens.

The Makerfield MP steps up to the podium like a man who’s just discovered leadership in the back of a cupboard. He announces his reforms with the confidence of someone who’s never had to fill out a social care rota at 6 am.

Ah yes — the classic Westminster move: Speed up the paperwork and hope the real‑world problems sprint to catch up.

It’s the political equivalent of shouting:

“Quick! Someone fetch the report! The optics are terrible!”

Cross‑party talks — Britain’s unofficial national sport — always follow the same choreography: everyone agrees social care is collapsing, everyone disagrees on why, one lot blames the last government, the other blames the one before that, tea is poured like it’s a medical intervention, a press release is drafted declaring “constructive discussions,” and absolutely nothing changes.

Mr Burnham, freshly installed in No.10 and still figuring out which cupboard the biscuits live in, proudly announces his masterplan: he’s going to link the social care workforce with the NHS workforce, creating “routes for progression, better pay, training and job security.”

A government statement dutifully announced that the Prime Minister believes social care reform is essential not only for the people actually needing help, but also for the NHS’s long‑term survival — which is Westminster’s polite way of admitting the whole system is held together with tea, press releases, and blind optimism.

Britain’s refusal to fix its broken social care system has left medically‑fit patients stewing in NHS beds like abandoned luggage, all because adult social care has the capacity of a damp shoebox.

In his Wednesday speech, Mr Burnham basically admitted Britain will never get the care service it keeps daydreaming about until someone finally strengthens the front line — which is Westminster’s way of confessing the entire system is propped up by exhausted carers doing heroic work while politicians clap from a safe distance.

Because every time a Prime Minister stands at a podium and announces, “We must lift up the social care workforce,” what they really mean is: “We’ve left them so crushed, so underpaid, so understaffed, that ‘lifting them up’ now requires industrial machinery.”

They talk about pay like it’s a revolutionary concept. They talk about training like it’s a luxury spa treatment. They talk about job security as if carers haven’t spent the last decade wondering whether their entire sector will be outsourced to a spreadsheet.

And then they say it with that solemn, statesmanlike tone — the one designed to make you forget that the “front line” they’re suddenly desperate to strengthen is the same front line they’ve ignored, underfunded, and politely applauded while doing absolutely nothing.

Because here’s the truth they never put in the press release: The social care workforce isn’t just the front of the service — it’s the scaffolding holding up the entire NHS. And Westminster has spent years kicking out the supports and acting shocked when the whole structure wobbles.

They say, “We must lift them up as best we possibly can.” As best we possibly can? That’s the kind of phrase you use when you’re trying to move a sofa on your own, not rebuild a national care system.

Pay, training, support, security — they list these things like they’re optional extras, like heated seats in a car. But they’re not extras. They’re the bare minimum. They’re the difference between a functioning care system and thousands of medically‑fit patients stuck in hospital beds because there’s nowhere safe to send them.

And every time a politician says, “We’re committed to reform,” you can practically hear the NHS whispering back: “Commit faster.”

Everything Changes In A Blink

Do you believe that aliens have ever visited Earth?

Aliens have never been proven to have visited Earth, though a few unexplained sightings keep the mystery alive.

Some people say yes, pointing to unexplained sightings, strange lights, or odd military reports. Some people say no, leaning on scientific evidence, the sheer size of space, and the lack of any physical proof.

And everyone else is stuck somewhere in the middle, sipping their tea and thinking, “Well… maybe.”

I don’t believe that ‘visit’ is the right word. “Visit” makes it sound like they popped down for a weekend city break, grabbed a Pret sandwich, and went back to Alpha Centauri.

Perhaps we are the aliens, meaning humans might not be entirely native to Earth — our origins, our biology, or even our behaviour could make us the most alien thing on this planet.

But many people believe we are not alone because life in the universe is too vast, too ancient, and too interconnected for humanity to be the only intelligence that ever existed.

We don’t need aliens to make us different, because humans have already become alienated from nature, from each other, and from the world that created us, and if anyone has ever observed Earth, they probably didn’t see much worth admiring — just humans acting like strangers on their own planet and slowly destroying the place they depend on.

We don’t need extraterrestrials to make us look foolish. We’re doing a fine job of that ourselves.

But humans aren’t stupid; we’re conflicted. We create art, medicine, music, architecture, compassion… And at the same time, we tear down forests, poison oceans, and fight over scraps.

It’s not that we’re “dummies.” It’s that we’re lost, alienated, and often too busy surviving to see the bigger picture.

Unfortunately, humans struggle to see the bigger picture because we’re wired for short‑term survival, overwhelmed by modern life, and disconnected from the natural world we came from.

Humans will eventually go extinct as every species does, but whether it happens sooner or later depends entirely on how we treat our planet and each other.

Instead of worrying about aliens, humans should focus on the world we have now and treat the planet — and each other — with far more care than we currently do.

Humans cling to the small, immediate things because life changes so quickly that the bigger picture feels distant, fragile, and easy to lose in the blink of an eye.

Democracy Isn’t A Gift To Government; It’s A Responsibility To Us

It is unacceptable to release dangerous offenders before the public feels assured of their safety. Victims and their families have already endured immense trauma, and weakening the consequences of serious offences due to systemic pressure risks undermining both justice and public trust.

This is not justice; it is an insult to victims, their families, and to the public who rely on the justice system to uphold their safety and trust.

I am writing this because the current situation regarding public safety and the early release of dangerous offenders has become intolerable. The public is being asked, time and again, to accept excuses for failures that have stretched across multiple governments and countless promises. This expectation is not only unreasonable — it is deeply unfair.

The state of this country has become indefensible. The Britain many of us grew up believing in — a place where public safety, accountability, and basic competence were non‑negotiable — feels increasingly unrecognisable. Every day brings another failure, another scandal, and another reason for ordinary people to lose faith in those responsible for governing it. Meanwhile, anyone who dares to question this decline is too often dismissed, criticised, or treated as part of the problem rather than as a citizen exercising their right to hold power to account.

I will not stay quiet while this continues. The public has every right to demand better, and I intend to use my voice to do exactly that.

People are increasingly afraid to speak their minds for fear of being attacked, dismissed, or publicly vilified for raising legitimate concerns. This is unacceptable. We need leadership with the courage to confront failure rather than normalise it. We must demand better — demand a government that puts victims before offenders, and the safety of the public before political damage control.

Because if we do not start holding those in positions of power to account, nothing will change. Accountability is not optional; it is the foundation of a functioning democracy, and the public has every right to demand it.

And to those who disagree, I must be clear: it is not normal or acceptable for individuals convicted of the most serious offences — including murder, rape, and acts of terrorism — to be released early. Such crimes inflict profound harm, and it is common sense that those responsible should remain in custody for as long as the law allows. I cannot understand how anyone could view predatory behaviour or the exploitation of vulnerable people as anything other than abhorrent. Whatever our political differences, we must all be willing to look beyond party lines and recognise the wider implications for public safety and justice.

I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s. Britain was not perfect, but it was a country where people felt safe, institutions were respected, and the justice system carried real authority. Today, I barely recognise it. Successive governments have eroded public trust in policing, the justice system, and the institutions that once formed the backbone of our society.

If prisons are full, then the answer cannot be to weaken justice or release dangerous offenders early. Where the law permits, foreign national offenders should serve their sentences in their home countries. This is a reasonable and lawful measure that protects the public, reduces pressure on the system, and ensures accountability is upheld.

People are not asking for miracles; they are asking for common sense. That should not be controversial, nor should it be treated as an unreasonable demand.

As a senior citizen, I have witnessed first‑hand the damage successive governments have done to this country. It is time they began looking after the people they serve — that is what they are elected and paid to do. Each day seems to bring new evidence of decline, and the consequences are falling hardest on our younger generations, while older people are increasingly unsafe as well. It is painfully clear that those in power are not taking these issues seriously. If they were experiencing these failures themselves, the urgency would be very different.

That Wasn’t Surgery, Darling — That Was Plumbing Done By A Drunk Ferret

A foreign doctor who botched an operation so badly it was described as “not compatible with life” has been struck off the medical register.

Dr Yasser Adly Abdel Rahman, an NHS locum surgeon, carried out the emergency bowel procedure on a young man but bungled the operation.

It meant the contents of the patient’s bowel, leaving his stomach, were re-deposited back into his stomach through a circular “closed loop”, the Medical Practitioners Tribunal Service (MPTS) heard.

The patient was left in “uncontrollable pain” and could have died but for another surgeon fixing the mistake in a second operation, the misconduct hearing of the MPTS, sitting in Manchester, was told.

Dr Rahman at no time thought that something may have gone wrong surgically, the tribunal heard, despite the patient’s parents and other medics voicing concerns.

A former consultant general and colorectal surgeon, acting as the General Medical Council’s expert witness, said the procedure carried out by Dr Rahman was “not known to man” and his error “as bad as it gets”.

Dr Rahman, who qualified in 1993 from Ain Shams University in Cairo, Egypt, did not attend the hearing and was not legally represented.

He claimed he had been made a “scapegoat” after a “witch hunt” following the operation, carried out at the Royal Oldham Hospital, where he was working as a locum on August 25, 2020.

The MPTS imposed an order restricting his work as a doctor in July of the following year, but Dr Rahman violated the conditions of the order as he then applied for and secured a job as a locum at Affidea Express Care Clinic in Ireland in February 2022, the tribunal discovered.

This breach of the order imposed on his work was an “aggravating” feature, the tribunal ruled, to already “significant” errors in surgery and post-op care, the hearing was told.

The tribunal concluded in a ruling last month that Dr Rahman’s wrongdoing was “fundamentally incompatible with continued registration” and erased him from the medical register, allowing him to work as a doctor.

Oh for heaven’s sake, what was this man doing — rearranging the poor chap’s insides like he was making a bloody balloon animal? I mean, really, I’ve seen toddlers with Play-Doh show more anatomical understanding. It’s absolutely outrageous.

You don’t just plug a bowel into a stomach and hope for the best. That’s not medicine — that’s DIY gone rancid. It’s the sort of thing you’d expect from a man who thinks instructions are ‘for wimps’ and anatomy is ‘a suggestion.’

And when the nurses said something was wrong, he apparently waved them off. Waved them off! As if they were offering him a custard cream he didn’t fancy. Honestly, the arrogance. If I’d been there, I’d have told him exactly where to shove his stethoscope — and it wouldn’t have been the stomach.”

Thank God for the second surgeon. He walked in, saw the internal equivalent of a spaghetti junction, and somehow managed to put the poor boy back together. That’s a hero. The first one? Struck off — and quite right too. If you can’t tell your duodenum from your elbow, you shouldn’t be rummaging around inside people.

“It’s not ‘a witch hunt,’ darling. It’s consequences. And frankly, you’re lucky they didn’t burn you at the stake for crimes against anatomy.”

Oh my God, the poor boy — uncontrollable pain because some silly man decided to play pin-the-tail-on-the-organ inside his abdomen. It’s obscene. Absolutely obscene. You don’t leave someone writhing like that unless you’re a sadist or a fool, and frankly I’m not sure which one he was.

And imagine being the parents. Your child is screaming, vomiting, begging for help, and the surgeon who caused it is wandering around saying everything’s fine. Fine! It’s the medical equivalent of setting the house on fire and then telling everyone it’s ‘just a bit warm.’

It breaks my heart. Truly. Pain like that is torture. And he could have died — actually died — if another surgeon hadn’t stepped in and said, ‘Right, enough of this nonsense, let’s fix what this clown has done.’ That second surgeon deserves a medal, a cake, and possibly a national holiday.

As for the first one? Struck off. Good. If you leave someone in agony because you’ve plumbed their insides like a drunk octopus, you shouldn’t be allowed within ten feet of a scalpel.

It’s Bollocks With Beeps

Hey Tesco, don’t get all annoyed at me because I forgot to scan something. You literally gave me no training before making me a cashier.

The audacity of a company giving you zero training, plonking you on a till, and then acting shocked — shocked! — when a human being makes a mistake. Honestly, it’s peak corporate behaviour: “We won’t teach you anything, but we will absolutely tut at you when you don’t magically know everything.”

And let’s be real: those tills are temperamental. Half the time they’re screaming “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA” because you dared to breathe near them.

If Tesco wanted flawless scanning, they could try the radical concept of proper training or maybe supportive management instead of the passive‑aggressive beeps.

You forgetting to scan something isn’t a crime — it’s a Tuesday. And you’re a human, not a barcode‑detecting cyborg.

Good old‑fashioned cashiers didn’t disappear — they were strategically “phased out” in the same way your favourite chocolate bar gets “slightly smaller” every year. Bit by bit, quietly, and with a corporate grin.

Because self‑service machines were cheaper than hiring and training humans, and shops realised customers would do the labour for free if you gave them a touchscreen and a robotic voice.

Management decided that “customer experience” is optional, but “cost‑cutting” is sacred, and suddenly the humble cashier — the one who could hold a conversation, spot a dodgy barcode, and tell you which biscuits are on offer — became an “operational inefficiency”.

And the reason why people miss them: A cashier can actually help when something goes wrong. They don’t shout “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA” every time you blink. They make the place feel human — a bit of warmth in the weekly shop. And they don’t passive‑aggressively imply you’re a criminal because you forgot to scan a carrot.

Shops want the efficiency of robots but the accountability of humans. So they remove cashiers, shove people onto tills with no training, and then act shocked when mistakes happen. It’s corporate theatre.

Self‑checkout tills behave like Victorian children: seen, heard, and constantly on the verge of a meltdown. You place anything literally down, and it shrieks “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA” as if you’ve dropped a live ferret instead of a loaf of bread.

And the weight sensors? They’re calibrated by someone who has clearly never met a real human. A packet of ham is apparently too heavy. A multipack of crisps is too light. Your soul is too irregular.

You miss one barcode, and suddenly the machine thinks you’re the mastermind behind the Great Tesco Heist of 2026.

It flashes red, summons a staff member, and announces your shame to the entire shop like a town crier.

Meanwhile, someone else is walking out with a trolley full of shopping because the gates are basically decorative.

There’s always one poor worker running between twelve machines, trying to override errors, check IDs, and stop the tills from having existential crises. You stand there helpless, holding your broccoli like it’s evidence in a crime scene.

The corporate logic

“Let’s replace cashiers with machines that:

  • don’t recognise fruit,
  • panic at carrier bags,
  • accuse customers of theft,
  • and require three staff to keep them functioning.”

Genius.

The human element

Cashiers could:

  • chat,
  • help,
  • fix things,
  • and not scream at you for existing. Self‑checkout gives you a beeping rectangle with trust issues.

Oh for God’s sake, these bloody self‑checkout machines. Who designed them — a committee of lobotomised pigeons? You put a banana down, and suddenly it’s having a nervous breakdown. ‘Unexpected item in bagging area.

Unexpected? It’s a banana, darling. What did you expect — the Crown Jewels?

And then it flashes red like you’ve detonated a bomb. The whole shop staring at you as if you’ve tried to nick a leg of lamb. I’m standing there thinking, I’m sixty‑something years old, I’ve lived through governments, pandemics, and men who don’t wash properly — and THIS is what finally defeats me? A machine with the emotional stability of a wet sock?

Meanwhile, the poor staff member — one person for twelve machines — is sprinting around like they’re in the bloody Olympics. You wave at them, they wave back, but the machine is still shrieking like a banshee. And you know what? I miss cashiers. Real people. Someone who can look at a courgette and not have an existential crisis.

These machines don’t save time. They don’t save money. They just make everyone feel like a criminal for buying a loaf of bread. It’s corporate nonsense. Utter, unfiltered bollocks.

Jeremy Clarkson – Fame’s gone to his head so badly he’s strutting about like he’s the mayor of his own imaginary kingdom — crown, cape, and absolutely no self‑awareness

Jeremy Clarkson whipped up a digital dust‑up by declaring that benefit claimants should send weekly thank‑you notes to taxpayers, because apparently even his dogs manage better manners.

He kicked off a full‑blown fury by bragging that his dogs “always show their appreciation” and then proposing a weekly national lottery of taxpayers’ email addresses so benefit claimants can send thank‑you notes like some government‑mandated gratitude mail‑out.

He suggested they should be made to send a heartfelt message of thanks before receiving their next payment.

Clarkson wrote: “I want fulsomeness. I want to hear what they’ve done with the £194 I gave them that week. And I want effusiveness as well. I want to feel their gratitude.”

The TV star said recipients should explain how the money had helped them, joking he wanted to receive messages saying: “It is SO kind of you to go to work every day so that I don’t have to.”

He also suggested that some people might well decide that getting a job was preferable to writing lengthy thank‑you letters every week, and the way he said it carried that dry, eyebrow‑raised tone that made the whole room smirk.

In his view, the sheer labour of constant gratitude — the careful phrasing, the polite flourishes, the endless obligation to appear appreciative — could start to feel more exhausting than honest employment.

It was a jab at the sort of social circles where niceties become a full‑time occupation, and you could almost picture someone throwing down their fountain pen, marching out the door, and announcing they’d rather stack shelves than compose another overwrought note of thanks.

However, his remarks provoked significant public anger online, with many accusing him of displaying insensitivity toward individuals who depend on state benefits.

One person wrote: “What an evil bloke! There were nights when we couldn’t even afford to eat, never mind have a TV.”

“Another commenter wrote: ‘The level of hostility directed at sick or low‑income individuals in this country is astonishing. The government already exerts substantial pressure on people to return to work, even when they are medically unfit to do so.“

They added: “The idea that there is mass fraud is disproved again and again. What’s the desired alternative? Let them die?”

A third said: “This is out of touch. Most people on benefits want to work. I am a high-skilled worker; the company I worked for went under.

“With the state of the job market, it took five months to find work. I applied for hundreds of jobs, every waking hour, desperate to work. It was crushing.” But others said it was a “good idea” and “might encourage people to find work”.

Jeremy Clarkson has a habit of saying things so unpleasant they practically come with a warning label.

He behaves like a big kid who’s just discovered the ‘on’ switch for all his favourite toys — and he’s absolutely thrilled with himself.

All that fame’s puffed him up so much he’s practically floating — someone ought to tie him down before he drifts off.

Disability Justice Means Dignity — Not Gatekeeping

The system meant to protect disabled people has instead become a maze of waitlists, denials, and outdated rules that punish them simply for trying to survive.

Politicians often promise to stand up for struggling families and vulnerable people, yet the disabled community is still consistently overlooked and left to fall through the cracks.

Programs meant to support disabled people have become inaccessible through excessive gatekeeping, outdated eligibility rules, and years‑long waitlists, turning the very systems designed to help into barriers that leave disabled individuals and their families without the services they urgently need.

When families turn to organisations or state agencies for help, they’re often dismissed with “this is how the programme is run,” and even complaints sent are simply redirected back to the same organisations that already failed them, leaving families with nowhere to turn.

It’s no surprise that many disabled people and their caregivers eventually become discouraged and stop seeking help, because no one should have to fight this hard just to access essential services.

Meaningful change is long overdue, and our disability service system needs comprehensive reform—not minor fixes—because disabled people deserve a transparent, accountable system that provides timely services, fair treatment, and real support instead of endless barriers, and it’s time to build a dedicated group of advocates to fight for disability rights.

People tell you to look on the sunny side of life even when the shit is literally falling on your head.

I’m not sure what’s worse — the lack of funding itself or the endless excuses for why we’re expected to wait for it.

If the government had to live off what we get a month on Social Security, they would see how hard it is. People are struggling to try to find a flat, groceries, utilities, et cetera, and it’s all buried under lies, manipulation, and avoidance of responsibility.

Disabled people deserve far better than the lies, manipulation, and neglect they’re forced to endure, because no one should suffer or live in poverty simply for being born with a disability, and people who become disabled deserve just as much support and dignity as those born disabled, because no one should lose their stability, health, or livelihood simply because life changed in a way they never asked for.

Disability justice means recognising that disabled people — whether born disabled or becoming disabled later in life — deserve full dignity, real support, and equal access to the resources that allow a person to live, work, and thrive.

It demands an end to the gatekeeping, neglect, and systemic barriers that force disabled individuals into poverty, pain, and isolation, and insists on a society where essential services are timely, income support is fair, housing is safe, and no one is punished for needing help.

Disability justice is the belief that every disabled person has the right to safety, stability, opportunity, and respect — not breadcrumbs, not excuses, but genuine equity.

Don’t Chain Someone To Their Past — Give Them A Future Worth Walking Toward

A man with addiction, trauma and no stable home has been pushed through a maze of disconnected services for over a decade, punished instead of supported, until the system itself became the thing keeping him homeless.

Fragmented services mean Paul is passed from police to courts to hostels, with no one ever responsible for helping him recover.

Punitive fines pile up despite him having no ability to pay, dragging him back into court again and again.

Addiction is treated as misbehaviour, so he’s punished instead of offered long‑term treatment.

Unsafe hostels push him back onto the streets, where at least he knows the rules. And trauma keeps him returning to the one area where he feels some sense of familiarity after being assaulted.

The painful truth is that Paul’s story isn’t an anomaly — it’s the logical outcome of a system that was never designed to solve homelessness or addiction, only to process people who fall into it.

This is absolutely heartbreaking. How can someone be failed for this long and nobody steps in?

This isn’t the life he chose, and he’s drowning, and the system keeps handing him bricks instead of a lifeline.

We talk about ‘help’ like it actually exists, but where was it for him? Ten years of suffering and still no way out, and it’s devastating. He’s punished for being vulnerable, fined for being poor, and abandoned when he needs care.

How can anyone read this and not feel ashamed of how we treat people who fall through the cracks?

This man needed stability, love, and safety. Instead, he got fines, fear, and the same cold pavement every night.

We’ve created a world where suffering is seen as a nuisance instead of a cry for help. Paul deserves better. They all deserve better!

That could be one of your family members — your brother, your son, your uncle — and if it were, you’d be begging the system to help instead of watching it punish him over and over again.

Whatever someone has done in the past should never be dragged into their future — because if this were your brother, your son, or someone you love, you’d want them to be given a chance to heal, not chained forever to the worst moments of their life.

Everyone deserves a clean slate. You can’t rebuild a life if the world keeps reminding you of the rubble.

People grow, people change — but the system refuses to let them. It keeps punishing yesterday instead of helping today, and if we want people to move forward, we have to stop holding their past like a weapon against them.

A mistake shouldn’t become a life sentence. Compassion is how futures are built.

Sutton’s Got Flies, Mice, And Mayhem — And One Woman Left Climbing 14 Steps To Hell

A 45-year-old former cleaner says she is trapped in her own home after her flat became overrun with thousands of flies and mice.

The Sutton resident suffers from severe spinal problems and bulging discs.

It presently takes her 40 minutes just to climb the 14 steps up to her first-floor flat.

But the physical pain of accessing her home is only part of what she is dealing with inside.

Over the last year, a severe environmental crisis at a neighbouring property has totally disrupted her life.

She came home one day to discover thousands of flies swarming out of her letterbox and hundreds more covering her windows.

The subsequent mouse infestation was so severe she had to throw out 65 bin bags filled with her ruined clothes and personal items.

Another resident on the block said the ammonia smell coming from the neighbouring property was like a “dead body.”

Inside her own flat, her bathroom is considered too small for the disability adaptations she desperately requires.

She says she sometimes wets the bed because she cannot reach the toilet fast enough.

Despite providing a GP report describing her deteriorating health, she has been told she faces a 10-year waiting list to be rehoused.

Sutton Housing Partnership says the resident does not presently meet the criteria to be transferred, but they will continue to review her case based on medical recommendations.

Meet the criteria? In this country, you need a PhD in hoop‑jumping — unless you’re invisible on the system.

Ignoring a disabled tenant’s needs is unlawful — the Care Act demands dignity, and the missing social worker and absent OT report make this a clear failure in duty.

A neighbouring flat became a full environmental health crisis, with rotting waste and animal contamination creating the perfect breeding ground for the mice and thousands of flies that infested her home. Mice can climb stairs easily, using their claws and light bodies to run straight up almost any surface.

Mice can carry fleas, and it’s one of the reasons infestations get dangerous so quickly, and the council absolutely should have intervened, and not in a “we’ll send someone next week” way. In cases where a neighbouring flat has flies, mice, rotting waste, or animal contamination, the law treats it as an environmental health hazard, not a private housekeeping issue.

Flies and mice can carry dangerous diseases such as salmonella, E. coli, leptospirosis, hantavirus, and parasites that spread to humans through contaminated surfaces, bites, or food, and prolonged exposure to mice, flies, waste contamination, and airborne bacteria puts her at genuine risk of illness, especially with her existing health conditions.

Prolonged exposure to mice, flies, waste contamination and airborne bacteria puts the lady at genuine risk of illness, especially with her existing health conditions.

Jeremy Clarkson’s National Grovel Service

Clarkson basically wants Britain to run a national chain‑email pyramid scheme where people on benefits must send weekly gratitude updates to random strangers, turning Universal Credit into the world’s saddest newsletter.

I should say first that he was aiming this at young people he imagines are sitting at home doing nothing — which is adorable, considering most people on benefits are either working, caring for someone, or desperately trying to survive our economy.

But he wrote it as a blanket rule applying to everyone whose benefits are paid — even though he was clearly aiming it at the imaginary young people he thinks are sitting at home doing nothing.

That includes more than thirteen million pensioners, millions of people who receive benefits while working — who might end up being ordered to thank another benefit claimant — and me.

I receive PIP, and that money goes towards my Motability wheelchair I use to travel — so under his blanket rule, I’d apparently have to send weekly thank‑you emails for the privilege of getting myself out and about.

It is not a free wheelchair, and it’s not even my wheelchair—I exchange the mobility component of my PIP to lease it.

The wheelchair takes a lot, which is awkward, because that same payment is also meant to cover the additional costs of being disabled — including a wheelchair that’s actually usable.

Those programmes have helped thousands of people overcome anxiety, return to their lives and, in many cases, return to work.

It is funny how public support and clever tax arrangements are treated as perfectly respectable when they benefit wealthy people, yet when a disabled person receives help to leave the house, go to work and participate in society, he thinks they should be made to perform gratitude.

So thank you for your concern, Jezza — truly touching stuff.

So let me get this straight: pensioners, disabled workers, carers and half the country are meant to send weekly thank‑you notes, but MPs get to claim a duck house and call it ‘essential’.

Imagine thinking disabled people should perform gratitude for going to work while billionaires get tax relief for owning a yacht.

So I’d be thanking someone who also gets benefits, who’d be thanking someone else who gets benefits, until eventually we’re all just emailing each other like a national chain letter.

Clarkson obviously wants Britain to become LinkedIn, but for poverty.

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