The Christmas panto:Scroungerella

..after all, millions of others have been given the benefit!

Once upon a time, somewhere in the UK, lived a young girl called Scroungerella who had never ever worked and had been in receipt of sickness benefits for years due to her CFS, haemorrhoids and unspecified mental health problems. Scroungerella’s mother was an alcoholic so the DWP awarded her Disability Living Allowance with the higher rate mobility component, meaning she was supplied with a free Toyota Land Cruiser by those nice British taxpayers. For three months every Summer she would loan the car to her sister so she could tow her caravan around Europe. Scroungerella’s daddy was also claiming DLA. He suffered from a bad back which could only be relieved through a daily round of golf followed by a strenuous workout at his local gymnasium.

Scroungerella had three brothers, Jackie, Gareth and Richie. They too were receiving sickness benefits but continually moaned they weren’t given enough money and how the evil Tories were picking on them by having their welfare claims re-assessed. Despite pleading poverty the three boys could all afford their own PC’s and would often spend hours a day posting on internet forums to tell anyone who would listen how they were too ill to do any job…. even computer work! Poor Scroungerella had to put up with the boys talking utter bollocks every day, and sometimes, to get away from them, she would lock herself in her bedroom and talk to her cat, Wok, who had nine ailments as well as lives, including something wrong with his arse. Scroungerella seriously considered escaping from the three whingers through finding a job or, even better, by marrying a rich working man!

One morning a brown envelope landed on the family’s doormat. Scroungerella was to be assessed by Atos the following week! She was terrified,she knew her long sabbatical was almost over. As Scroungerella sobbed there was suddenly a blinding flash of light and a magical fairy appeared. “Don’t worry,” said the fairy, “I’m Windtalker, the busy-body fairy, and I’ll make sure the DWP don’t sign you off the sick.”  Windtalker smiled and with a flick of his magic wand Scroungerella found herself wearing the most beautiful shellsuit she had ever seen. “Now for your transport,” said Windy, “A real sponger would never go to an assessment by public transport, they might be spotted by the DWP and ruin their agoraphobia claim. Wok, fetch me two mice, and Scroungerella, bring me a pumpkin!” Wok soon returned with the mice and Scroungerella with the pumpkin. With another wave of the magic wand the pumpkin was turned into a top of the range BMW from the motability car pool and the mice into a pair of golden Nike trainers. “Remember though,” said Windtalker, “If you’re not back in time for the Jeremy Kyle show your car and shoes will turn back into a pumpkin and mice.” 

Scroungerella sailed through her medical but had only ten minutes to get home before Jeremy Kyle started. As she threw down her walking sticks and sprinted down the ramp of the Atos assessment centre she stumbled and lost one of her golden Nike trainers, but didn’t stop to pick it up. An off-duty Police Chief-Inspector did pick it up though and immediately recognised it as one of the Foot Locker batch looted during the London riots. “Go and search everywhere for the girl whose foot this trainer fits. I will never be content until I find the thieving scrounger,” he said to his colleagues at the station. The Police tried the trainer on the foot of every girl on Scroungerella’s estate until only she was left. “Come with us you feckless waster!” the policeman told her when the trainer slipped perfectly onto her foot. “Oh shit!” cried Windtalker the busy-body fairy. “I’m a barrister!” ranted Richie, dropping his towel, “I’ll get you released.” “My arse,” miaowed Wok. Scroungerella just smiled. She was going to prison but at least she was finally escaping from the three moaning arse-holes and would now go on to live happily ever after,still at the expense of the British taxpayer.

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