The room was set on the corner of the building. It contained an iron bed, a bedside table and a chest of drawers. Three windows were set in place to give light and everything was painted white. The old man sat up in his bed; his slippers neatly on the mat by his bedside. He was in sheltered care, a home for the elderly.

The old man had taken the bus often and used his bus pass much. He had to, as his rent was not being subsidised anymore. Dreading eviction he spent his days skipping from café to library and to short-stay friends. He was in a constant state of flux, because the Pensioners club he belonged to had closed due to budget cuts.

The shabby old man, clothes unkempt, shuffled along the roadside. Many just ignored him as he made his way to the local Salvation Refuge. The captain asked for some information; some I.D. to trace his family. In the end he admitted, “Oh yes, I used to be a politician some years back. I followed
the party line as we cut the welfare bills of the weak and poor. Little thinking that his policies would become law, and now set in stone they affect and apply to me too.”

So I write this while listening to the BBC chattering class media types. Almost joyfully telling us how our governments mishandling of the welfare of the vulnerable and weak becomes their non-concern. Now I begin to see where this is heading, and like the BBC, we may glimpse a brave new world of final honesty of the political classes for us all.