Work-Is It Worth The Aggravation?

So sang Liam Gallagher on the Oasis classic, Cigarettes and Alcohol. Its a question that seems to be asked frequently by television producers lately. The latest is, Benefit Street, on Channel 4, in which Birmingham's finest work avoiders are painted as a carbuncle on the face of society. The whole premise of the programme appearing to be to goad viewers who have spent a miserable Monday at work into thinking, "I'm working my arse off for these scroungers!" as steam from their ears fills the room.

Personally, I have to admit I've spent time on the dole and it's been amongst the best years of my life. There, I've said it. Not that I had much choice in the collapse of industry years as I grew up under Thatcher. But like many others, there was no way my stunted social mobility was going to stop me from having a good time. I used my spare money to drink and my spare time to form a band and write. There was no way I was going to be meekly shot down by the Eton Rifles. Eventually, I joined the ranks of the employed, learnt to be responsible, earned more money for leisure and bills and secretly sometimes yearned for the forced, restricted autonomy of my benefit cheque.

My problem is one television and politicians alike are not keen to address. I like paying my way, feel better for it, have a better sense of purpose but cannot help feeling someone, somewhere is taking the piss. And I don't mean the ciggie smoking cider swigging chav. Sure, they are, but they are a by product of a failed society. The people I have in my sights are the shareholders, the faceless and the feckless who keep the workers down to make sure their lifestyle is protected and sugar coated.

I sound like some Marxist student there and I'm really not. But it strikes me, at the core of employment is an attitude, you must know your place, be servile and grateful to the investors and the directors who somehow are immune to cutbacks and pay freezes like they are somehow of superior stock. Seems all a bit Ayran to me. 

This disillusionment is one that had collectively grew as prices have risen and wages fallen. It seems Westminister feels our pain, emits its spin but the antidote hasn't been invented yet, unless you're  in a position to award yourself a pay rise. No one is of course, except, those in Westminster. Erm..... 

Everyone likes to feel appreciated whether it be in their personal or professional lives. But in the former, you can often walk away. To leave a job nowadays because you simply hate it has been made a punishable crime by benefit law changes. You can be left bereft of money for months because you cannot take any more of the daily shit thrown at you. So the thing that you crave to give you greater fiscal freedom can be the trap that pulls you apart.

I hate not working now. There's a stigma attached to it but I've lived with that. I like the exercise work gives me, the banter and of course the money. But while I'm at work, I sometimes I think of that Oasis lyric or Morrissey freeing himself of his repressive employer, Mr Shankly. At the core of those words is the knowledge you are being taken for a ride, giving something of yourself that those who pay you are not interested in compensating you for.

For Britain is a service industry now. The decent wages and high level skills are mainly showcased In museums. We have been put in our place. Earn your keep, keep your head down, don't rock the boat. There is too much fear for it to be any other way. Your only chance of escape is the lottery, like an extra tax on hope. That for me, is modern Britain. I say modern, for somewhere up above, Queen Victoria is smirking quietly.