Dissociative MPs whine for sympathy

As a student I experienced the world of hard graft. It was bearable only because it was temporary, students paid no income tax in those days for some reason, and it earned me more cash than I had ever imagined. I started off washing pots in one hotel, then progressed to silver-service waiting. Some weekends I’d start at 6.30 on a Saturday morning serving breakfasts, clear and lay for lunch, serve morning coffee, then lunch, then afternoon tea, then lay up for dinner, serve dinner and then at 11pm move over to the ballroom to do a couple of hours behind the bar at a busy dinner-dance. That’s an eighteen and a half hour day. Two or three times during the day I had to change my top and change-up the coins I had received as tips and which bulged my trouser pockets like roof-tilers nail bags. A shorter sixteen and a half hours on Sunday and I would walk away with the equivalent today of about £400 for the weekend. I was a grafter, and they would have me for as many hours as I cared to do. During the holidays I guess I worked more than a hundred hours a week and took home a bigger wedge than the hotel manager.


I also and at other times and places picked fruit and veg in the open fields, drove a fork lift truck and worked a gruelling night-shift in a bronze foundry. What’s pertinent is that I spent enough time with people who have no choice but to labour painfully for their whole working lives to have scant sympathy for imagined hardship. I was a student, and had a life of relative ease and working comfort ahead of me; the lined, worn and weary faces of the men on the night shift who faced being physically worn-out by fifty and encumbered with all the chronic medical disorders that hard physical labour brings had no such choice.


So MPs who claim that their lives are ‘devastated‘ by ‘working’ in the House, who claim that nineteen weeks holiday is not enough, and that a salary that puts them amongst the top 5% of earners is inadequate are not merely unfit to represent the ordinary people of this country, the whining little shits are grossly insulting all those of our fellow citizens who really do have to graft for their living. They are utterly dissociated from reality, living in a cosy bubble and no doubt imagine that brioche forms part of the normal diet of the working man.


Some 55% of this pampered elite think politics is a career and have ambitions to become ministers. 100% of them think being an MP is about them, their own self-interest, ambitions and welfare, and that being an MP is about what you can screw out of the job rather than what you can bring to the common good. I’ll bet not a single one has even my own limited experience of hard work, let alone any understanding of the position of their constituents. Apparatchiks, blow-ins and parachutists, narcissistic and avaricious little turds, they represent the preferred lobby-fodder of the metropolitan party HQs; with no experience beyond playing politics at university, and from comfortable and shielded upbringings, they have cultivated mediocrity and elevated sycophancy to a virtue. These are Oborne’s Political Class. These are our enemy.


Whining MPs may wish to remember there is another kind of dissociation that may prove more attractive to many electors; it is the crack of the fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae being dissociated.

14 comments for “Dissociative MPs whine for sympathy

  1. Robert Edwards
    June 6, 2011 at 10:21 am

    Given that many of these cretins are unemployable in any other context (ex-‘activists’, or ‘party workers’) then surely they should be grateful for anything they can get…

    • June 7, 2011 at 5:44 am

      They are never, ever grateful, just as they never know shame. It’s a personality defect.

  2. Jack Savage
    June 6, 2011 at 12:21 pm

    Hear,hear. I was brought up on a farm and there is nothing like farm work to give you an incentive to study up and head for the world of the white collar.
    It also gives you a life long appreciation and sympathy for the people who never manage to escape a life of low paid and backbreaking work.

  3. M
    June 6, 2011 at 6:19 pm

    I’m afraid politics really is a career. In general, they go straight from university to being a union official or some politician’s bitch for a few years, then on to some other party position, then an MP, then on to minister/party leader, then to the House of Lords. It’s just a long, but very well-paid, climb up the greasy pole.

  4. mikebravo
    June 6, 2011 at 10:07 pm

    I would gladly go back to hard manual labour if it involved learning how to induce the crack of the fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae. It might take me a few hundred strangled failures to get it right but I think it would be a trade worth learning.

    • M
      June 7, 2011 at 2:26 am

      Yes, politicians do love the odd massage, with some ‘executive extras’ thrown in.

    • June 7, 2011 at 2:52 pm

      Manual or rope induced? 😈

  5. Maaarrghk!
    June 7, 2011 at 6:47 am

    Sadly, politics is now seen as a career in itself rather than a public service after being involved in something else first.

    I think is was on Longriders blog where there was recently something about a call for a minimum age limit on MPs and suchlike – make them spend some time in a proper job first was the gist of it.

    Due to my own work being in something that we used to have called “industry”, it is not very secure in its nature, therefore from time to time I still get a little reminder about life in low paid work with people (bloody hard working people) who have no other choice and work for a pittance.

    Currently on £24K plus a car, with rather a lot of unpaid overtime and considering myself pretty lucky in comparison with most. Fully aware that things can all change in the space of a few months.

    • No Longer Smug
      June 7, 2011 at 11:49 am

      “Fully aware that things can all change in the space of a few months.”

      Like in my case – contracting a chronic illness. Fit and healthy one month, weak as a kitten (and all manner of other “niggles”) the next.

    • June 7, 2011 at 12:21 pm

      And didn’t it just? Cruising along on about £35k one minute, completely out of work the next and unable to secure any work for around ten months, during which time my life fell apart, my credit rating was nuked and I am only able to get a part time dead-end job that I hate intensely – indeed most dead end jobs that I would have walked into a few years back won’t touch me these days.

      • June 7, 2011 at 2:57 pm

        Been there, done that. All down to ill informed political meddling.

  6. Maaarrghk!
    June 7, 2011 at 12:36 pm

    And it’s not getting any better for those of us in good health these past few years LR, as you may already be aware.

    My last dead ender was as a pallet donkey at Poundstretchers main warehouse, loading wagons in the Christmas rush. Of course, the usual tactics had to be used to ensure I was not seen as over-qualified. “Me drive taxi, me shovel on building site”. But this time instead of just being told by the agency to just turn up for a try out, there were endless forms to fill in,interviews etc, etc. Harder than getting a job in my own skilled field in fact!

  7. Andrew Duffin
    June 8, 2011 at 9:37 am

    Students paid no tax in those days because the allowance was set at a liveable-wage level, and your temporary summer earnings never totalled up to that level.

    That was before taxing the poor became A Good Thing in itself.

  8. SIR
    June 8, 2011 at 8:51 pm

    Swine and Bastards. I feel slightly better now.

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