Daily life for the unemployed is much the same in prison as on the street - perpetually broke and subjected to God awful daytime TV.
Having sweated my way through my 0 Levels, A Levels, Bachelors degree, Masters degree and now researching for a PhD, it seems that I'm overqualified for any job in the nick. Given the Homerish qualities of some Managers, I'm tempted to offer my services there but would probably fail the CRB check.
And so I live the life of impoverished leisure, rolling out of bed about the time when the working contingentare being marched away. The TV goes on before I'm even dressed, and after a jug of cheap coffee powder and several roll-ups I park myself before the typewriter and flex my synapses. With breaks for lunch and tea, this comprises my days. It costs you lot £30,000 a year for this (of which I receive £2.50 a week). My position isn't unique - there is only work for about half the people in prison, and even that stretches the definition of 'work' into absurdity. Annoying,isn't it?
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