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Disability Bitch hates sunshine

4th June 2009

Readers, I'm in an exceptionally bad mood this week. I think it's a very good week to be in a bad mood. Here is the evidence:
Three sunbathers soaking up the rays on the beach
1. A woman with MS says she will have to 'die alone' because of confusion over voluntary euthanasia laws.
2. Eight hundred British people are - apparently - queuing up to die at an assisted suicide clinic in Switzerland.

3. A 'politician' I am not allowed to name or link to because it is polling day today and I might prejudice his chances, has declared that "there is not a lot of point" in keeping some disabled people alive.
4. Learning disabled TV contestant Susan Boyle has been admitted to a private clinic because she's so exhausted following her defeat and mauling by the tabloids in Britain's Got Talent
5. A disabled man has been told that he can only spend £200 on a bed from the public purse, even though MPs are allowed to spend £1000 each.
I mean, the top three alone make me want to launch an advertising campaign clearly stating that not all disabled people want to die tomorrow and that some of us do pay taxes, snog and smile sometimes. Story number four just makes me depressed to be part of British popular culture and story number five just makes me depressed full stop. Plus, none of them are funny so I don't particularly want to write a satirical column about any of them. Well, OK, the thing about the bed is a little bit funny, but I've already stated that I hate MPs and everyone's taking pot shots at them this week so that's super boring.

Despite all this stomach-churningly awful cripple-based news, it would appear - inexplicably - that the rest of the country is in a deliriously good mood this week. Why?
A woman sunbathing in the park
I don't suppose the source of their joy is the European Elections which have now descended upon us ... so it must be the so-called amazing weather most of Britain has experienced this week. Honest to God I don't know what they're thinking. We established early this year that I love snow, so it should come as no surprise that I HATE SUNSHINE. All right-thinking disabled people should. Here's another list to tell you why:
• First, you are expected to take your clothes off. Well, you're welcome to take your clothes off if you like. It's just - in my personal experience - having your atrophied disablified flesh on full public view doesn't exactly stop people staring at you, and you can guess how much I love wobbling down the street in a vest top and short skirt with nosey people asking me what I've done to my leg. Nothing. I've done nothing to my leg. I walk like this all the time. I know it blows your mind. Idiots.

• Second, it's too bright. I'm reliably informed that blind people hate light. They wear dark glasses, not to hide their hideously deformed eyes, but to protect them from the incoming sunlight. They hate summer, blind people. It makes them more blind. Or something.
A sunbather on the beach
• Third, disabled people sweat loads in the sun. Loads and loads. If you're like me, you sweat loads anyway because you use energy inefficiently with your freestyle walking action, and this leads to a layer of attractive sweat at almost all times. In summer, this turns to a slick. And I wonder why I'm still single.

• Fourth, swelling. My joints swell in the heat. My ankles swell in the heat. It's something to do with having crap circulation. I don't understand it, but I am just one big swollen ball of Bitch when the sun is out. So swollen that not even Ibuprofen can cure me and I am unable to walk anywhere. That's UN-able - as in 'don't see the ability, see the agony'.
An older couple on deckchairs, sleeping in the sun
To conclude, when the sun is out, I'm a sweaty, swollen short-tempered short-sighted Bitch. The temperatures seem to be falling a bit today, but I'm off to sit in the freezer until at least September. Anyone care to join me?


You can watch the former Lady Mills every minute of every day, getting thoughts direct from her brain via her HeatherOfficial Twitter page. I am but a Johnny-come-lately with my Heather-centric gossip. This week, Heather gives you, her public, dating advice. "Just stay away from Mr Wrong. Confidence is sexy." There you have it, people.


This week on Facebook, my throng of virtual friends have been extending their sympathies to Susan Boyle and complaining about clothing accessibility issues in preparation for next month's Ouch podcast. Join my online harem.

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