Chameleon Magazine

To: The Bloke Clocking In at 6:00 AM

Good morning, mate. Wipe the sleep out of your eyes, put the kettle on, and grab your hi-vis. We’ve got some fantastic news about your paycheck this week.

You know that £400 that vanished off your payslip before you even got to touch it? The bit listed under “PAYE” that you thought was paying for the local A&E, fixing the crater-sized pothole at the end of your road, or maybe keeping a copper on the beat?

Well, tighten your toolbelt, because we’ve upgraded your tax money!

Your New Household Budgeting Strategy

To help you understand how brilliantly the State is managing your sweat, imagine sitting down at the kitchen table on a Sunday night with your missus to go over the household bills.

Imagine your neighbor, Kev, kicks the front door open, grabs your wallet off the counter, pulls out your mastercard, and strides off to the pub.

Three days later, Kev pops back round, pats you on the back, and says:

“Right, pal! Great news. I’ve just spent three grand of your money buying rounds for the whole pub, plus I bought a new coat for a bloke three streets over who was having a rough week. Tremendous stuff. Very noble of us.”

If Kev did that, you’d hand him his teeth on a plate.

When His Majesty’s Government does it, it’s called Fiscal Responsibility.

Where Your Hard Work Actually Goes

Let’s break down your 45-hour week so you can see where your sweat is being deployed:

 Monday to Wednesday: Working to pay off the interest on money the government borrowed twenty years ago to pay for things they couldn’t afford then.

Thursday: Working to pay the interest on the money they borrowed this morning to send abroad so politicians can look generous on the 6 o’clock news.

 Friday Morning: Working to cover the admin fees of the committee appointed to look into why the country has no money.

Friday Afternoon: Congratulations! This 3-hour window is your actual wages. Don’t spend it all at once; the standing charge on your energy bill is due.

The Grand Contract

The rule used to be simple: You graft, you pay your fair share, the country gets built, and you get to keep enough to build a life.

The new rule is far more efficient: You graft, the Treasury swipes your card, hands it to international lenders, and then sends a bloke in a tailored suit onto the telly to tell you that if you complain about it, you’re just not being very generous.

So pack your sandwiches, get out the door, and get on that site. Those foreign aid packages and interest payments to foreign banks aren’t going to pay themselves—and Kev’s got another round to buy.