Skip to main content

Underwriting the next generation

I received a bill from the taxman today. Barstards! Apparently, the bill was caused by an error in the IR's computer system that overpaid me for child tax credit. Idiots! I will have to pay the half-wits but will do so with much reluctance. What really gets me is that there are no longer any tax allowances for parents. Give us a break! We have less disposable income than people without children and receive no credit for the benefits that we are bringing to society. My annual childcare costs are equivalent to a reasonable pre-tax salary for a young single person. They make me so angry with their going out and having fun all the time while I sit at home cursing the price of babysitters and watching yet more repeats of Friends on the idiot box.

Provided my children do not become hardened criminals - they do act like terrorists a lot of the time so its too early to say with total conviction - they should grow up to become tomorrow's doctors or lawyers and hopefully contribute to society in a positive way. In 30 years time my daughter may save someone's life on the operating table, or if she's a hairdresser she might might make someone happy with a really good perm (I think they will be back in by then) or simple cut such as this one: http://www.davidhasselhoff.com/splash.html.

Having children is one of the most important ways of contributing to society yet the present Government would rather spend billions fighting a pointless war in the Middle East than subsidise childcare. I am also fairly sure that one of the main reasons that childcare costs in the UK are not subsidised is so that the parent that is not the main breadwinner is forced to stay at home, thereby leaving open another job to be filled by a jobseeker (most likely a young single person! They make me so angry with their smoking weed and staying out all night while I .. enough already!), reducing unemployment but at all times keeping the stay at home parent out of the unemployment statistics.

Enough grumpy old man shit, go to bed!

I'd better do as the voice in my head says. Apologies for the rant (and the gratuitous swearing) but I am nursing a hangover. Also, if any voluntarily childless people out there want to wire me some money for nappies/toys/nannies/beer my account details are: a/c XXXXXXX sort XX-XX-XX.

Comments

Manhattan Mama said…
I know you hate me for the edit Alpha Male (fellow readers, I XX'd out the account details and sort code of his and YLM's account...) but as a reporter who writes all too often about identity theft and what not, I love you both too much to see something like that happen. Okay so I am paranoid and a little edit happy....attack me tomorrow in your post.
Anonymous said…
keep taking the lithium grandpa!!!!

Popular posts from this blog

The Grim Reaper

Firstborn is obsessed with death. It started with the odd comment, such as; "Mummy, what happens when you die?" OK, I thought, I was expecting this at some point, what a cute little curious brain she has. So I trotted out all the cosy Heaven stuff and left out all the things that could worry her, such as worms and bones and holes in the ground. This went down pretty well, although somehow Firstborn made the jump from my view of Heaven (filled with love, joy, always warm, never rains, has a huge discount designer shoe outlet and I never have to pay my Visa bill) to her own view of Heaven; a wonderous place where small girls don't have to eat their vegetables before they're allowed pudding, and where Barbie dolls grow on trees. Anyway, I digress. Last week Firstborn started shouting "Kill! Kill!" in a bloodthirsty tone while bashing her hithero-beloved teddy against the wall. This was topped by her purposely flushing her favourite My Little Pony down the loo. ...

What Price Romance?

Let's talk romance for a moment. Manhattan Mama clearly feels deprived in this department and this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life with her. My latest attempt to remedy this is to make a reservation at A Voce--some interpretation of Tuscan cuisine--that the NYT recently gave three very optimistic stars. I've been a few times on my employers expense, so I know it's nice but I also know what it's going to cost. I'm thinking lucky if we get out of there for less than $150. Tack on another $50 for the babysitter. Then drinks, cabs, etc. Better not to do the math. It's not that MM wouldn't be perfectly happy with a kabab or a trip to the hipster taqueria, maybe some flowers from the corner stand. None of that would register in her mind as this mythic thing know as a DATE, and thus would win me no more points on her end than remembering to take down the recycling. Making a DATE means you're thinking of her, which means you're engaged with h...