Wednesday, 3 April 2013


My secret crush is Iain Duncan Smith

Look at him. That glinting head, that icy stare, that outstretched hand that you just know can crush a poor person's hopes and dreams in a matter of seconds. Look into his cold dead eyes and tell me you don't find that entire lack of compassion a real turn on. Go on, I dare you (although not too close unless he turns your heart to stone like his). Oh Iain and your insistence on demonising those struggling most in society. That true desire you have to penalise disabled families for having an extra room to frivolously store their hospital beds and necessary equipment. People may accuse you of hypocrisy Iain but I know how hard your life is, how much you struggled before marrying into aristocracy. And why shouldn't people be penalised for being disabled, in care or just plain poor? I know people are mean to you sometimes Iain but I could look after you. I could even come and visit, no-one would know, you could hide me in your 17th-century Buckinghamshire manor, or maybe build me a little flat in your 1300 acres of land. I promise we'll only need one bedroom. Oh Iain .

Oh no wait, sorry, my mistake. Tricky word crush. I don't have a crush on him. I would like to crush him.

And yes I appreciate this is simplistic and insulting and maybe some things need to change. But right now I just want to punch somebody in the face and I'm too angry for subtlety. And not only is their language around "shirkers" and "strivers" lacking in subtlety too, it's insulting and dangerous and means people who have nothing being plunged further into poverty and the rest of the country encouraged not to care. The lack of any voice sticking up for the most disadvantaged in society is making me irate and I just want to shout and scream. So this is my childish, petulant, impotent expression of rage. Fuck you tories.

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