Diabolical Shower of S***s

I'm suffering from Furious with the DSS Syndrome. They summoned me to a consultation with a doctor in a Health Centre at the top of the Hilltown, the steepest hill in Dundee. My chances of getting there without the help of my lifeline lady would have been zero.

The format was very 1984. Asked about my ability to drive, I replied that my brain fog, blurred vision, poor concentration etc, meant that I was choosing not to drive. When I got a copy of the interview minutes the following week, , this was recorded as "Mr Lucas prefers to let others drive for him". Not quite the same thing. Inevitably, in view of the distorted nature of the proceedings, the DSS were able to reach the decision they wished to, and cancelled my benefit entitlement. I'm appealing. I'm also furious, and I will be involving my MP, MSP, MEP, Councillor, lawyers, and whoever it takes to overturn the DSS's ridiculous decision.

Perhaps I need to enrol the assistance of a professional layabout, the ones you know have never worked, that you see walking from the pub to pie shop via the bookies with a fag burning. They seem to do well out of the DSS, it's just the mugs who work for 30 odd years and then need to claim who are ignored.