Personally, I’m super positive about this budget. For months we have we sat duck-taped to our chairs, as our great leaders pranced around to Steelers Wheel, occasionally bending down to whisper into our temporary ears of all the nasty things that were going to happen come December. And as the sun goes down on the dreaded day, I find myself and mine not all that bloodied and still in possession of almost all of our aural appendages. Why? Because, despite what feels like an endless struggle against debt and Common Law’s ridiculous 79c app habit (appit?), we really aren’t that poor. And nor, come to that, is any fucker with a permanent public sector job, despite being the alleged loser in this most Saint Bridget of budgets. Sure, he might be negative equitied right up the ass, but she still has a house and he can still put food on the table. Maybe it's a struggle, but it's a struggle for everyone. And what we got today is a shitty fucking Thacherite cop out involving the further exploitation of the genuinely impoverished, a complete abandonment of any vague thoughts of job creation, and a scrapage scheme that benefits, you guessed it, those with enough cash floating around to buy an oh ten car.
Young people on Job seekers "benefit" get the shit cut out of their money because up until now they were just sitting on their arses playing XBox. Why didn't 22 year olds do that during the boom? Because there were fucking jobs. People want to work. These welfare cunts, these Limerickers, these Darndalese, will always exist. You cannot legislate for lazy cunts. But making it impossible for the youth of today to make ends meet while looking for a job that doesn't exist isn't going to make the jobs appear, it's going to make the young uns leave the country. And rightly so. Shit, if it wasn't for the children, I'd be in Penticton right fucking now, ranting about the poor pouring of the Guinness and the lack of quality snow And I have a fucking job.
Time for a conclusion? Coming right up.
I'm slightly relieved, more than a little disgusted, and really fucking scared. This is no eighties, no thirties, but thanks to today's comedic anti-climax, it soon fucking will be. Turns out I wasn't all that super positive after all.
Sorry, Darragh II.