Friday, 30 December 2011

How To Survive Mental Torture

Today I had a meeting with an adviser at the Job Centre, who wanted to know what progress I've made in getting a job.
Well, I could tell from her tone that she wasn't going to take any shit from me, and that unlike the other adviser I saw six months ago, this time I was in for a rough ride.
Of course, I've made no attempt to find work for what now seems like years and years, and admitted to the adviser that sometimes I can't sleep at night, when I think about how much I've cost the state over the last few years, in unemployment and invalidity benefit. (I always lie when my back's to the wall).
The woman gave me a "you're just another fucking parasite" kind of look, before telling me that in two months time, if I'm still unemployed, I'll be forced to take the first job I'm offered, or otherwise my benefits will be stopped.
Naturally, that sort of news left me feeling like I'd been stabbed in the guts, and when I got back to the flat, I told Tony that it seems that the good old days could be coming to an end.
Thankfully, Tony sat me down and gave me a can of lager, before telling me that he saw the same woman over a year ago, and that she gave him the same harsh treatment. He then pointed out, that as we all well know, he's still unemployed, and that the beast from the Job Centre hasn't followed up her vile threats.
We both agree that whilst mental torture is a great way to humiliate and break prisoners of war, it shouldn't be used to scare the shit out of idle bastards like him and me.
It's taken an afternoon's heavy drinking, and a walk around the block, to help get my head straight, and only now, after a few hours of suffering mental anguish, like I've never suffered before, I'm glad to say that this morning's meeting has been forgotten, and I'm looking forward to 2012, which I hope will be another year of glorious idleness, heavy drinking, and porn movies!

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