I couldn’t get regular work there cause they have a law that if a Turkish person can do the job then they have to get the job before any foreigner. Imagine they had that law here, Industry would grind to a halt. I came back here to live with my mother and step father and after a month or two trying to make money online I gave up chasing that fantasy rainbow.
I got in with an agency to work in a food factory on a temporary basis. It feels like I’ve moved abroad again. Never mind a Scottish accent it’s only very rarely do I hear English being spoken. What the fuck has happened in the past 7 years?
Oh aye, that’s right, the government has opened up the flood gates for immigrant workers to come in and destabilise any remains of whatever solidarity is left of the local people.
They have already killed the Unions and so to make sure we never fight for our rights that our forefathers fought for, they bring in people from other countries who will work for peanuts without question because the conditions and pay they get in their own countries is even worse!
Apparently it is a slightly better standard of slavehood here.
So I work in the food factory through an agency which means I get a text the day before to let me know there is a shift available. Sometimes it is busy and I get a few shifts and other times I go a week or two without any.
My mother drives me fucking batty in the meantime. Although she invited me back to her house to live for a while, it was on the condition I would get a job and get out of her house asap.
She emails me jobs from S1, like Meter Readers or DIY men.
Every day I get asked “What are you doing to get a job? People who want a job get up early and look for one, they don’t lie in bed until 12 o’clock.” She thinks it is like the 60’s when Britain actually had an industry base. She thinks you just knock on the door of a factory and BOOM you got a job. She doesn’t realise how much times have changed.
“Why haven’t you got a job? I didn’t send you to the indoctrination centre from the age of 4 until 17 for you not to be a good little slave? Who do you think you are to want to follow your own creative passions? You can’t make a living based on your own delusional fantasies. God put them in your mind just to fuck with you. What do you think you are, special? That’s just a pipe dream.
Get yourself in with a factory so you can sell your soul by getting up at 5 am every day and take corporate cock up your ass for 8 hours for Six measly pound and hour until they decide to cut out the middle country and move the factory to Poland directly where they can pay the worker bee’s even less and shove the Man’s dildo even further up their arse. Then you can either move to Poland or get a job cleaning the shit of Politicians Bell-end. What’s the matter with you? You ungrateful little slave.”
Well, that wasn’t her exact words but that was certainly what she implied.
Meanwhile I get up every day and burst my balls editing videos of other people, some of whom have even asked me to do so but then don’t have the good grace to even say thank you. Is it any wonder people make me fucking sick.
Everyone is in this life for what they can get. It is me, me, me all the way.
My mother does have a point actually, that trying to make a living on your own ideas in nearly every industry is a complete waste of time because to get anywhere you have to play the game….and that’s exactly what it is.
If the comedy promoter thinks you will rock the boat too much and take genuine risks then he just won’t book you because he has his Mortgage (Death Pledge) to pay and you are just a means to that end and it’s best not to kid yourself that you are anything more. I guess it’s been that way for artists for a long time though, nothing new there.
So instead we all tell tales of hilarity that don’t actually have that much import and we kid ourselves on that all is fine with the world, while the government continues to suck at least 10% of the value of everyone’s labour into the pockets of criminally insane psychopaths who reside mainly in Rome.
So the worker bee’s have a laugh and drink Bee-r, cause as well as keeping the establishment’s proprietor happy we also have to numb ourselves to the reality of that dildo getting shoved further up our arse every second.
Meanwhile my mother laughs when I get a letter from the Inland Revenue.
“Ha ha, they found you. You think you are someone special who doesn’t need to pay tax to fund the military industrial complex to defend our country by attacking others first. The Police, sorry Policy Enforcers also need funding so they can put a gun at your head if you smoke a herb which was put here by the creator to help heal people.”
“I didn’t send you to the indoctrination centre so you could think for yourself. We prepared you as best we could for the slave labour factories. We even sat you in front of the TV every night religiously. And on Saturdays you were forced to watch Swap Shop to learn the value of stuff. Dr Who so you learned about Police Boxes and Jim’ll Fix It so you learned about the harmlessness of Paedophilia. What more could I have done for you?”
“We didn’t indoctrinate you for the good of your health you know? Now you want to be an individual who thinks for themself? You want to exist on this planet without a MASTER? Who do you think you are, the Jesuit General?”
Cheers!
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