“They toil not, neither do they spin; yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. ” – Jesus, a long time ago.

I used to work in a Jobcentre, which for those unfamiliar with the concept is where lazy people go to be given free money and people who’ve diligently spent their whole lives plodding away on the hamster wheel of employment go to be told they can’t have any money because it’s just been given away to the lazy people. That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but not much. When I first started work there, I assumed that everyone who chose to work in such a place was probably a total cunt (apart from me) and that everyone who staggered through the door with their hands out was an innocent victim of The System, ground to a quivering human ruin by the greedy, gnashing cogs of capitalism. It’s amazing how quickly a bit of reality can crack those rose tinted glasses.

My colleagues, it turned out, were largely well meaning, perhaps misguided, lefties, underachievers, old hippies, tired idealists. The customers/claimants were a mixture of genuine people who’d fallen or been pushed upon hard times, the insane, and the fucking bone idle. “Nobody’s on the dole because they WANT to be” I’d once thought – despite the fact that whenever I’d been on the dole in the past it had most definitely been because I had wanted to be. A few months working in the Jobcentre showed me that there is actually a massive section of society who really DO spend all their time sat at home smoking weed in front of their 70″ flatscreen TV from Bright House, in between popping out to get another kid’s name tattooed on their neck or steal something to go sell in CEX. And that it’s nothing like ‘necessity’ that has led them to this – it is a CHOICE. Whole dynasties of people who had NEVER worked – ‘single mothers’ who would turn up with more and more children in state of the art buggies over the years while remaining ‘single’ – surly, inarticulate youths in designer baseball caps who’d sit there stinking of better quality weed than I could afford, fiddling with their iphones, rolling their eyes and kissing their teeth, telling you that despite their criminal records and zero work experience they wouldn’t consider getting out of bed in the afternoon for less than £10 an hour, people who’d threaten violence if you couldn’t see them because they’d missed a 4pm appointment because they’d ‘slept in’, people who would lie and menace and wheedle and plead, seeing you as nothing but a faceless, inhuman obstacle that they had to dodge past to dip their grubby mitts into the honey pot. Not the ill or the unfortunate, but the LAZY.

The lazy are a massive problem in our society. They have their hands in the pocket of the working man, always ready to excuse themselves with some tale of victimhood or entitlement or casual, lazy, ignorant racism – no jobs coz the poles have got them all. Whole generations of people sucking the light and the hope out of communities, refusing to grow up, refusing in any way to become the adults we need to shoulder the problems we face, fat, chocolate faced babies sat wailing in their own excrement, forever.

Since we decided, for better or worse, to leave the EU, the press has been filled with tales of how fruit is rotting in our orchards, the elderly are freezing in their own homes – all because the Eastern Europeans who had migrated here to work had decided to return to their own countries, and English people wouldn’t labour in the fields to bring in the harvest, or care for their own parents and grandparents. The hard working Poles were going home in droves, and the lazy English sat watching Jeremy Kyle, a grotesque, moronic, mirror of their own feckless, foul mouthed toothless existence. We have generations of people who WON’T work – who just don’t have the mindset for it; they believe that anything difficult or unpleasant is not possible, or that it’s not possible for THEM, or that somehow they should be exempt on the grounds on their own wholly unproven superiority. Not the sick, not the unfortunate, not those who who cannot work, but the LAZY.

We shouldn’t be importing a single migrant to do a job that one of our vast supply of lazy countrymen could be doing. Anyone who tells you ‘there just aren’t any jobs out there’ is LYING. There may not be many jobs that’ll pay you £40K a year and not require qualifications, application or actually turning up when you’re expected – but there are plenty of jobs scrubbing floors and caring for the old and serving fast food and so on. So many of the lazy are so PRECIOUS – there is so much they feel is beneath them, so many of the essential roles that need to be fulfilled for a society to function that they hold in utter contempt. They wouldn’t swap places with a toilet cleaner, but they’ll happily sit down at his table and eat the food from his childrens’ plates.

It’s not entirely the fault of the lazy. Nobody could spend their whole life as a baby were not the poisonous teat of the welfare state made so easily and unconditionally available. The benefits system in this country seems almost deliberately constructed to be of absolutely no use for those who pay for it, while providing an endless bounty for the irresponsible and idle who spend forever milking the cow without ever feeding it.

I don’t know what we do about the lazy. Maybe forced labour gangs or a return to the workhouse. Not as some kind of humiliation or punishment – that benefits no-one – but as a way of insisting that if you wish to be a part of this society and enjoy the fruits of its collective labour, then you must HELP, you must CONTRIBUTE. That would leave more for those who cannot work, it would leave more for those who need a shoulder to lean on until they find their feet again, and it would  help towards building a sense of community – how can we all feel that we’re striving for any kind of common goal, working together towards a better future, when so many are just REFUSING to work?

Too many want to remain children, spending all day at play, letting the adults feed and clothe them, tidy their toys away at the end of it all, tuck us in and kiss us goodnight. But the adults need to step back and stop listening to excuses for why these eternal children still can’t stand on their own two feet. The lazy are dragging us down. We need to let go of their hands – and if they won’t stand, we need to let them fall.


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