So Rachel Reeves, the government’s Chancellor of the Exchequer has sat at home of an evening with several bottles of wine over the last few weeks figuring out who she can fleece in the upcoming budget. Drooling at the very thought of shafting everyone with even the smallest idea of running their own business or owning their own property she’s going to stamp on their heads as best she can. Pensions, investments and savings. Any money that people have worked hard for and diligently saved she’s going to take a very sharp knife to and take a large slice off the top. Meanwhile her property and money portfolio will grow exponentially. Because that is how Champaign socialism works.
Strangling businesses strangles employment. It’s not a difficult equation to understand unless maybe you are a labour voter. I can’t even call them thick because it’s beyond that. Delusional? Angela Rayner wasn’t delusional she knew how to fill her great big pretend socialist purse.
So as usual, I digress. Reevsey has smoked 9,000 cigarettes and drank expensive wine in her expensive home and realised that the sums aren’t adding up so reluctantly she is going to have to take a mini slice from the grifters. She’s going to have to poke a finger into the great big dirty labyrinth of social security payments.
..and she’s thinking of choosing – the mobility allowance. yaaaay
I actually think this is a marvelous idea (see my last post) . I have a particular grievance about this because the lady a few doors down has one of these cars. Only she doesn’t: her daughter does and her benefits just pay for it. Sometimes she has to get the bus to get some milk or 3 gallons of lager and 100 fags because her daughter isn’t about. The fat, gobby daughter is all over the place getting speeding and parking fines. How do I know? Because the fines come to my house and have been doing for about 3 years now. Our house numbers are similar but the other way around. Earlier in the year we had a little fall out about this and the Keighley grifter hairbun on the top of her fat head wobbled as she told me to fuck off. I got tired of phoning the various places to inform them the address was wrong only to still receive the same letter the following week. Evidently DVLA think her car belongs to someone at my address and without resorting to something of more magnitude I really can’t be arsed.
Anyway bring back little three wheeler reliant robins for the disabled. They’ll soon manage to fucking walk.