Welfare Reform Dramatically Improved My Life – Says Dead Man

Police issued a picture of a possible suspect today.

Police issued a picture of a possible suspect today.

Speaking through the channel of an accredited Spiritualist a dead man today claimed that welfare reforms had dramatically changed his life for the better. The 58 year old who collapsed and died an extremely undignified and public death on the grubby floor of a British factory whilst working shifts for the ‘living wage’ in an intensely stressful environment had nothing but praise for the government’s radical welfare reform programme.

“I had heart trouble,” the man revealed. “It was so bad that I could barely manage a single flight of stairs without having to stop and sit down for a rest. I felt completely useless to be honest. It got to a point where I couldn’t walk more than a few steps without feeling dizzy and nauseous, living in constant fear of losing my balance and falling under a bus or cracking my head on something sharp and suffering some kind of terrible brain trauma.

“I felt like my life was finished and that I’d become a burden to my family and society as a whole.

“Then I was invited to attend a Fitness For Work Assessment and it changed my life in the most positive way possible. I was judged to be fit for work by a fat cunt with his arm in a cast who basically ignored everything I said, but who dramatically improved my life by asserting that I was 100% fit and able to work and subsequently cut my Employment Support Allowance by £30 a week and told me to get off my lazy arse and contribute something to society, which at the time I thought was a bit of a liberty coming from a government funded prick who earned more in an hour being a twat than I could earn on the living wage in a month, but in the end the fat wanker was absolutely correct.

“It changed my life for the better, giving me the confidence to apply for various positions, including Head Goalkeeping Coach at Sunderland FC and sparring partner for Floyd Mayweather in Las Vegas.

“Suffice to say that I didn’t get any of the more glamorous posts that I applied for, but after being sanctioned by the DWP and forced to rely on food banks for basic sustenance I got offered a job in a factory on a production line where you had to have the hand speed of Muhammad Ali in order to make a go of it, whilst being berated by a fat bastard of a supervisor who just stood around shouting at people and watching them struggle whilst making no attempt whatsoever to assist.

“On my third day I wasn’t feeling too well but I went in to work regardless. Seeing as the DWP had declared me fit and healthy enough to work I mistakenly believed I’d be okay.

“Then we had a bit of a pile up on the line where I couldn’t quite keep up, but I did my best because anything is better than being at the mercy of the psychopathic DWP and this bastard of a government, but I keeled over. I hit the floor like a sack of shit and lay there helpless, twitching in my death throes as my workmates went into panic mode.

“I’d have loved to have spent my final minutes on this earth telling my nearest and dearest that I loved them unconditionally, but I drew my last breath on that shitty factory floor surrounded by strangers, and I was grateful to the DWP for making my life better. At least I was in work.

“And the employment agency who employed me offered discounted trauma counselling to my fellow employees, which really made my day as I watched from the firmament above.

“Thanks to the DWP I at least died with dignity. I’d rather that than to pop my clogs on the sofa eating macaroni cheese and watching Judge Rinder.

“It was all for the best really. I just hope my co-workers weren’t too traumatised watching me thrash about in agony and spit my dentures out as I shuffled off this mortal coil. I’m not bitter. Just very, very dead.”

(This article is dedicated to Iain Duncan Smith, the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) ATOS assessors and that poor dead pig whose head suffered a fate worse than death even after death.)

*With all due respect to Judge Rinder.



Robin Williams, Death And Suicide

Robin As Popeye

Robin As Popeye

*Editor’s note – By this point in time everybody in the world who is even remotely interested will be aware that Robin Williams died by his own tormented hand yesterday, (11/08/14) seemingly following a lifelong battle with addiction and depression. As a magazine editor this poses a dilemma: To cover the story, or not to cover the story? Of course the pranksters and the purveyors of terrible puns pop up everywhere – whilst some people, specifically British stand-up comedians John Bishop and Jason Manford, along with cracked.com adopted a more sympathetic approach. I’d virtually decided that enough has already been said on the subject – from the crass to the heartbroken, all the way through to those people who feel anger towards suicide victims. I thought just about everything had been covered, and then I got this from our very own Frankie Jordan, a man who has looked demons and death in the face more times than any man should ever have to. This is what Frank wrote:*

I have a story to tell

© Frank E. Jordan 2014

Robin Williams is dead. We all know that and most of us grieve for him, not because we knew him, but because we thought we knew him and we loved or hated his performance art. I grieve for him because he lost his battle with whatever demons chased him and finally killed him. I grieve because those same demons chase me every day and have since 1973. Several times I’ve eaten enough medicine to kill a full-grown buffalo and why I’m still alive and Williams is dead is because he hanged himself.

Over a month ago I came in from taking photographs. It was a lovely day. I felt bad but couldn’t put my finger on what was wrong. I was perspiring but cold and I just wanted to go bed for a while. I told my wife Caroline that I felt really bad and that if I didn’t feel better soon she’d better take me to the hospital.

Well I didn’t feel better and she took me to the ER where I went into respiratory arrest; I stopped breathing. I felt as if I was strangling. An army of medical people came into the room and tried, unsuccessfully, to get an IV going. The last thing I remember was calling for Caroline. And a respirator choking me even more. And then I went unconscious.

He Was Also A Hugely Gifted Serious Actor

He Was Also A Hugely Gifted Serious Actor

Let me tell you this: there were no angels, no bright lights; my mother and father didn’t come to greet me. Satan made no appearance. I was where dead people go; dead for all purposes and yet my mind kept going. I was choking. I was terrified. There was no peace, nothing but shit-scared me in a black tomb. But the demons; they came. And it went on and on until they sedated me. No one sedated Williams. Only the demons came to applaud his final performance.

That is what Robin Williams felt in his last moment of consciousness, pain, unbearable, unrelenting pain and fear. His limbs jerked and he lost the ability to move. No one knows how long it took Williams to lose consciousness. We do know how long it took John Brown to die on the gallows at Charles Town, 20 minutes. His body jerked for about 12 minutes according to Stonewall Jackson, who wrote in his journal that he “admired him for dying like a man.” I think Ole Bluelight probably admired the way he walked up to the scaffold ramrod straight and apparently unafraid of the death that awaited him.

Robin Williams killed himself but God only knows whether or not he faced death like a man.

I do not know why he hanged himself. He had to know that there would be terrible agony. Maybe he thought he deserved that pain, who knows? But I know what it is to strangle and believe me; I advise avoiding it at all costs.

So far as suicide goes, you kill more than yourself, and a piece of paper saying “I’m sorry,” is a coward’s good bye. If you feel like hurting yourself there are people just a phone call away that know how to help you beat back the demons. Otherwise, you die and the demons win. The demons don’t deserve to win and there is no light in the darkness as yours goes out.

For God’s sake don’t follow Robin Williams into whatever hell he descended to (I don’t believe in that hell, I do believe in the hell of strangling to death). But it’s your choice: the demons are waiting.