Diary of a Layabout #0

An occasional series examining the practical application of the Flexible New Deal.

I've been privatised. The comprehensive package of "help and support" I get from the Jobcentre (you know, the one that's been so successful in helping me get a job so far) is being withdrawn, and will in future be "delivered" by a "partner organisation". The literature I've been given is short on details of exactly what this will entail other than financial sanctions for non-compliance, so it looks at this stage very much like The Same Old Shit In A New Wrapper, i.e. if I do get work anytime soon, it'll be despite this programme rather than because of it but they'll still claim the credit and so collect a big fat bung from the government.

This series is a preemptive attempt to keep the record straight on that score. I was going to spin it off into a separate blog, but I got halfway through the introductory "How I got here" post and realised that I could have truth or anonymity but not both at once, and that anything which could be construed as an undercover investigation of the programme could itself be used as an excuse to "sanction" me.

Feh.

Anyway, I've got a couple of weeks to go while my details are handed over, so this is the trailer rather than episode one. Watch this space, social policy fans.

Meanwhile, I continue developing:

art for Cherry Al's iPhone game,
my followup proposal for Insomnia,
a pitch for a classic drama adaptation,
the return of some old stuff,
and my next short-run daily webcomic

as well as continuing to be available for art workshops, one-off or regular illustration/design/editing jobs and private commissions large or small,

none of which, obviously, counts as "work".

Moorcock Moorcock Michael Moorcock You Fervently Moan

Wow.

That should keep my spirits up through the inevitable feeling of hollow dissatisfaction I'll have tomorrow night.

That Was Then

I woke up on a sofabed in a flat I didn't recognise. Lying there waiting for the ceiling to stop spinning, I tried to work out where I was by reconstructing the events of the night before.

There had been nothing unusual about it. A pint after my last lecture, the Biko Bar gradually filling up and then emptying again as people drifted off to halls or home to get fed, get changed, get preloaded for another cheap Thursday night out. Dinner from the canteen, a couple of hours reading or drawing back in the bar, then switching into full-on social mode as the diesel took effect and the gang came back to go dancing. Not bothering trying to pull, just having a good time, then finally blagging crash space from someone or other...

I got up, found my boots, and wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water. The sun was up, at least, but whoever lived here was still asleep and likely wouldn't surface for hours yet. No matter, I'd thank them later. Right now I had an approaching hangover to stave off.

Hitting the street, I found people going to and fro - it was still morning, but later than I'd thought. Halfway up University Avenue, I met the performance artist Roddy Himmler-Zagreb, who had news.

"Did you hear," he said excitedly, "The Berlin Wall came down?"

Style Guide for Hotel Booking Websites

"LEEDS
– ancient Yorkshire honorific denoting a populated area. Use as a prefix to all locations in the county, e.g. Leeds Bradford, Leeds Pontefract, Leeds Whitby. May confuse customers searching for accommodation near the City of L~, but fuck them."

Brains!

"The country will fall silent next Wednesday at 11am to mark Armistice Day.

And Craigneuk's war dead in Wishaw will gather at the memorial for a moving ceremony."

- Wishaw Press, 4 Nov

An Open Letter to the IPCC

Dear Sirs,

Have you no shame?

Have you.

NO.

FUCKING.

SHAME?