The Christmas Panto: Snow White and the Seven Scroungers

The Seven Scroungers

Once upon a time . . . in a four-bedroomed Westminster house, paid for by the DWP, lived a lazy but rich young girl called Snow White. Her stepmother was incredibly jealous because Snow White claimed DLA whereas she could only sponge ESA. Due to her skin being so fair Snow White had convinced the DWP she was suffering from a rare genetic disorder which made it impossible for her to ever work. Her stepmother was also a scrounger and proud of it too. Every day she looked into her magic mirror asking,

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the biggest scrounger of all?” The reply was always; “You are,” until the dreadful day it answered, “Snow White is the most feckless parasite of all.”  She was furious and began plotting to get rid of her step-daughter. She called her drug-dealer boyfriend on her new iphone and gave him £5000 of ESA money she had saved. He was told to take Snow White into the Scroungevilla’s estate where she would live with all the other DLA fraudsters soon to be unmasked by Atos assessments. The greedy boyfriend agreed and took Snow White to the estate, leaving her there. Night fell and she began to sob. She was sure terrible eyes were spying on her and heard strange sounds and rustlings that made her heart pound. Was it DWP investigators or just the “agoraphobic” claimants coming back from the pub?  Finally, after eight cans of Special Brew and a joint, she fell asleep under a tree.

At midday the following day, just as the Scroungevilla estate was waking up, Snow White awoke too. She decided to find out where she was so started walking until she came upon a path. She walked along it and came to a clearing. There stood a cottage. Snow White pushed the door open.

“Who lives here?” she wondered, peering around the kitchen. “There must be seven of them, there are seven sick-notes on the table, seven brand new motability cars parked outside and seven computers.” Upstairs was a bedroom with seven messy, soiled beds. Back in the kitchen Snow White had an idea.

“I’ll help myself,” she said, “I’m entitled!”

Towards dusk, seven men carrying golf-bags came up the path singing “We are scroungers, we are scroungers, the public hates us but we’ve no shame.” When they opened the door they got a terrible shock. The house was even scruffier than usual and the kitchen worse than ever.

Upstairs, Snow White lay fast asleep on one of the beds. One scrounger prodded her gently. “Who are you?” he asked. “And how old are you?” leered the sponger in the red hat.  Snow White told them her sad story, and tears welled up in their eyes. Then, the one with the Geordie accent said,

“Stay here and scrounge with us, there’s always room for you at my table!”

“Hooray! Hooray!” they all cheered. The ones in wheelchairs jumped to their feet and danced  joyfully round the girl.

The chief scrounger said to Snow White, “You can live here and do the shopping and cooking while we spend all day posting on Digital Spy, play golf or go the gym.” “And when I check to see if any woman has replied to my advert!” ranted the one wearing only a towel, saliva dribbling form his mouth. Snow White gratefully accepted their hospitality and next morning the scroungers all went upstairs to boot up their PC’s, singing “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to scrounge we go.” They warned Snow White not to open the door to strangers just in case it was a DWP fraud team.

To be continued……

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