Lies – damned lies – and fatistics

The Times have released a breakdown of the number of people on benefits in the UK.

Out of all the people 2,000 are too fat to work. How fat do you need to be before you can’t work? Surely the world of darts have a few openings or maybe Frey Bentos need new tasters. How rotund must someone get before their podgy little arms cannot reach a keyboard? Can’t ITV bring back the wrestling? How do they get through the door of the job centre?

15,600 people received benefits for “malaise and fatigue” which as far as I can tell is the polite way of saying “lazy fucker who doesn’t give a shit.” I want to know when my share of the loot is on the way? In the Encylopedia Fatanica under both words you’ll find a picture of me. Well you would do if somebody would just write it for me.

8,100 for “dizziness and giddiness.” How in the name of all that is work-shy do you get off work through giddiness? I wasn’t aware “holding your breath for a long time,” “putting your head on a broom and spinning round and round,” “being an aunt” or “childrens’ roundabout tester” were real jobs.

I’ve decided I want a piece of this cash but what to claim under? I’ve decided I should claim on my wrists, specifically my left wrist. Ever since I was a child I’ve been cursed with this faulty wrist. My problem? I’ve never once found a watch that fits it properly. The watch either has to be so tight that my hand turns red or loose enough that when I go to look at the time it’s swivelled around and I end up looking at the buckle. Think of the mental torment I have to go through any time anybody asks me the time. It also pays havoc on work conditions as it’s very hard to clock watch if you have to contort your arm every time.

Surely that’s got to be worth something?