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A grey afternoon and on goes the Mac. I’m confronted with the face of Lord Freud, and quite as bad, the face of Esther McVey.

Along with the crazy tweetosphere, which sees him trend on #, a BBC report shows Freud was  “thinking aloud” it seems, caught out agreeing with a claim that some disabled people  “aren’t worth paying the minimum wage”. Other choice comments and misconceptions spew forth from this starting point.

I’m back from a pleasant lunch with a friend at a charming little cafe in Islington, spending a few quid of my tax credits (no £43 IDS type meals for moi). Freud and his ilk won’t ruin my good mood after this, but they sure as hell have refreshed my annoyance with the rampant hypocrisy of this government – and beyond it.

Labour seem cynical in seizing this opportunity to show up Lord Dodgy Freud for a cheap advantage when their own support of disabled people’s rights has been insipid to say the least. Clear message on saving ILF anyone at Labour HQ?

The BBC’s political editor Nick Robinson suggests Freud was “thinking aloud”. Are we meant to feel OK about it then?

I am not so much thinking aloud, as laughing aloud. In a hollow, weary, what the fuck? chortle.  The comments about jobs in general, and the one about ‘self-esteem – oh dear. My self-esteem doesn’t hinge on having some crappy job that isn’t fit for purpose of a human being that pays me £2ph. It blossoms with knowing I have value as a human being; as a citizen who is here now, in this current society, existing within a family, a community that supports me and what I bring to it. Dream on eh?

At PMQ, head toff Davy C, told faded Red Ed he “did not need lectures from anybody about looking after disabled people”.  I’m laughing loud now in between wincing. This statement says it all. As ever, our destiny is to be looked after. Not given rights. Not genuine support to work when we can and rights to receive sufficient social care when we can’t – without labels and judgements on our ‘worth.’ We are those that are LOOKED AFTER.

Oh and there’s Esther. I thought she’d slithered up the slimy Tory ladder away from moaning cripples and their irritating special needs. She did tell my mum we, (disabled people) like care homes, mind you, in relation to the closure of ILF. I have the letter…

She’s absolutely the best person to speak out against naughty boy Freud: ‘disability affairs’ minister? That’s a new one.

Look, I could write blogs on disability affairs all right. Yes, I’ve had a few, but it’s not the right time for my own Belle du Jour revelations. Not yet.

And my last thought – one thing these rich self-serving idiots never remember is that they aren’t as cosy and protected as they think they are. There’s a lot of us once you look down from your ultra-rich security blanket.

Some of us have a genuine social conscience. Some of are disabled.

Many of us are watching and listening.

And waiting to bring you down.

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