Disability Bitch vs token gestures

Everyone has lots to be thankful for this week though, my disablified brothers and sisters. See, not only did we get our own day to celebrate our collective unnormalness, but those of us in receipt of Disability Living Allowance will have witnessed a certain brown envelope dropping through our doors. Unusually, this missive from the Department for Work and Pensions does not demand intricate details of our medical history, does not mention in passing that our entire benefit income has been frozen while they carry out extensive investigations into the financial dealings of our second cousin once removed, and does not require us to fill in an entirely incomprehensible three hundred page form which seems to be asking for information we already gave them two weeks ago.

Not wishing to labour the point more than absolutely necessary, this particular communication notifies us that a £10 Christmas Bonus will be paid into our account in a matter of days! I realise that I should prostrate myself before Chancellor of the Exchequer Alistair Darling and thank him for my mercy, but I'm not going to do that. No. Because I HATE TOKEN GESTURES, and this one's no exception.

I mean, the famous Christmas Bonus has been £10 since 1972. If it was index linked, it would be worth so much that we could all buy small accessible cottages on the South Coast this year. But it's not. It's still worth £10. It will just about buy me a taxi to my No-Legged Friend's house for Christmas lunch, but he'd have to push me home in a wheelbarrow afterwards because I wouldn't be able to afford a taxi back.

And yes, I do know that this time around our benevolent Chancellor is paying us an extra £60 bonus in the New Year too.

Frankly, I'm annoyed we're not getting the extra bonus until 2009, presumably to prevent meltdown of all online home delivery shopping services over the festive season, when disabled people all realise that they can afford mince pies this year after all. Or perhaps Alistair thinks that if we spend our sixty quid in the January sales, we'll get more for our money.

Such an unusual out of the blue payment, readers. Personally, I think relying on disabled people to kickstart the economy is proof of the desperate state it's in.

You know, it's not like me to complain, but pensioners have been getting winter fuel payments for ages. The value of that varies from £125 to £400, depending upon how old and how poor you are.

With that in mind, I'm a little confused about how come disabled folk are only entitled to an extra £60. Still, I might invest in a new walking stick. At least mobility aid manufacturers can rest assured that they'll make it through the recession now.

Another week and still no sign of Heather. Is she even still disabled? If you've seen her lately, let me know. I'm worried about her.

This week someone on Facebook invited me to give a speech. I had to decline, on the basis that my status as a fictional character is quite disabling when it comes to actually speaking. I was flattered, though. Someone else left a message in my inbox saying that my last article was 'moronic'. Interesting, because last time I looked, the word 'moronic' was highly insulting to learning disabled people, but don't let that stop you taking the moral high ground. Don't be put off becoming my friend, though. I'd love to hate you.

If you'd like to shower me with insults but aren't on Facebook, you can download a Disability Bitch wallpaper to your computer or mobile phone, then swear at your screen all day. Why not!