Not looking for the sympathy vote

It’s an exquisite November morning in Dorset: cold enough to cause anxieties for the primates I’ve just passed in Monkey World but with bright sunshine that streams through autumnal orange trees. It creates a mystical haze over the Purbeck ridge which I can see across the fields from my vantage point. I silently salute the gathered magpies on the dew-laden grass and think longingly of the sea which I know will be glistening beyond, over in Lulworth, just as it did when Hardy was so inspired by these environs.

Well, to be fair, although Hardy gave literary credence to Woolbridge, just down the road, I’m not convinced he would’ve been particularly inspired by my current location. I’m sat inside one of many red brick buildings that comprise a mini-estate known as a green (that’s green as in eco) technology park in Winfrith. And I’m here, with about 40 other assorted reprobates who, some time in the last six weeks, have been caught speeding in their motor vehicles.

It cost a pretty penny to be here: you can pay the fine, take the points and leave quietly; or you can pay extra and come to Winfrith where, effectively, they buy the points back from you. It’s a new deal. Previously, only the selected few got the opportunity, but times are hard and the police need all the funds they can get. For all of us, it’s worth the investment although there are considerable mutterings to be heard as we have to pay for our early morning caffeine shots. We anticipate four hours of lectures on the implications of speeding.

In fact, it’s only three hours and the knowledgeable and jolly instructors are keen to instil the idea that that we are here not because of speeding, but because of distraction. They are kind, polite and extremely respectful and at the end, following an impromptu round of applause, they shake your hand and wish you well. I don’t think I have ever driven as carefully as I did on the way home.

In the afternoon, I went to the job centre because it’s Tuesday and I am a ‘Tuesday Person’. A couple of weeks ago, I went on a Wednesday because I was told to and got into all sorts of trouble for not knowing I was a Tuesday Person. The economic climate being what it is, there are all sorts of clients at the job centre. Clearly, they expect trouble because there are always at least three security men on guard. Generally, these guys spend their time looking at their phones and discussing how drunk they intend to get that evening. This is because there are no people causing problems. There is always at least one person crying but this is just a nuisance, not TROUBLE.

Who are you seeing today they ask?
I don’t know. No-one ever gives their name.
You’re seeing Simon.
Well, why ask then?

Simon turns out to be a rude and surly being who is cross because I can’t come next Tuesday. I can’t go next Tuesday because I have casual work (which I have declared).

But you’re a ‘Tuesday Person’ he argues.
Surely it’s better if I go to a job which has the potential of becoming permanent I suggest.
Yes, but then you’ll have to come on Wednesday he argues aggressively.

I leave dejected and depressed. The job centre in Poole has one of the highest rates in the country of speedy re-employment. It’s my contention that this is because no-one in their right mind can stand being treated like something nasty stuck to someone’s shoe. Do they think that we’re there from choice? It’s a blip in our circumstances which will soon be remedied. Wait until it’s their turn.