And lo, he stepped into a place unknown, and saw the light. And he saw
that it was not good, for it was
flourescent, and it did shine with a flickery glare upon the damned below it.
And he called this place the
"Benefits Office", and there was much wailing and nashing of teeth.
And so it came to pass that he was given a scroll which was written in many
dialects such as Urdu, Swahili, Guptaraji etc etc, and he did wonder who the
fuck would have
the nerve to claim benefit from a country who's language they could not even
speak. And he did emboss upon
the parchment "Where is the German, French, Italian, Spanish.....?"
Whereupon he read the commandments, formed as questions in the image of print:
"What is your name? (by name we mean the thing that you are called)"
Are you using a pen to write this? (by pen we mean the thing that you are writing
with)"
What make is the pen? Who pays for the pen, and how often?
Is the pen receiving any extra ink from anywhere else? What kind of ink? How
often?
Does the pen live with a partner? (by "partner" we mean any pen that lives with
your pen, such as a
Parker, Bic etc)
Is it ballpoint or fountain? What colour ink does it take?
Is this pen claiming asylum under false pretences? (if you answer "yes" to this
question, you will receive
extra money).
And there ended page one;
And so it continued until one rain forest had perished, and the parchment was
offered up to the wise one they
call "Dave the claimants officer", for he has the power of life and death (or
£50 a week, whichever is the
lesser). And the young man left, knowing that 2 weeks later he should return
to that place once more, and claim
gifts of incense, myrh, and 50 quid.
And there ends the story. And the moral is? Jeeez, you want a moral as WELL?