The Nudge Unit

I forgot to pay my car tax.
It isn’t the first time,
but with one thing and another,
well, you know how it is.
The letter they sent me,
well, it looked like any other,
addressed to me, Joe Bloggs.
A polite reminder.

But it slipped my mind again.
Buried under a pile of stuff,
it was out of sight.
You know how it happens.
But then they wrote to me again,
this time, with a big headline,
you couldn’t miss it,
‘Pay your tax or lose your Ford Fiesta.’

And there was a photo of my car,
my old car that I love,
underneath the headline.
Well, as you can imagine,
I kind of took notice.
I mean, that letter talked to me.
Not just anybody. Me.
It was addressed directly to me . . .

So I paid up. Went straight
to the Post Office and paid up.
And I wasn’t sure why.
But I kind of felt uncomfortable
about the letter.
It kind of felt, I don’t know,
intrusive? Weird? I mean,
who took the photo of my car?
When? What was I doing?
I felt a bit uneasy about it.

So I went on driving.
Tax disc all sorted. All alright.
And I put to the back of my mind
that strange letter they sent
with my photo in it.
It was only, well, months later,
that I was in the pub,
and I got chatting to somebody.
They used to work for the DVLA,
that kind of thing.

They said that, in my area,
at the time I forgot to pay my car tax,
the government, I don’t know,
some scientist it was,
did a kind of experiment
with the way they wrote the letters,
trying to get us to pay up.
Especially people like me who,
well, forgot more than once.

The person I was speaking to,
said they’re called the ‘Nudge Unit.’
You know, they kind of
give you a nudge
if you don’t pay things.
Saves the government millions.
Apparently, they text people who
don’t pay court fines.
Works better than a letter . . .
Well, it worked on me.
I’m not breaking the law now . . .

© Cath Davies 2015

Cath Davies lives and writes in North Wales. She has worked in social care for many years. Currently, she is currently studying creative writing at degree level at the Open College of the Arts where she has been a student since 2008.

Scrap Heap Austerity Blues

Austerity, you got me down, 

you got me on the floor:
no rainbows shining through my storms, 
no buds or flowers any more.
Not much money in my wallet;
I got little cause to smile;
got a lot of cause to worry though;
got debts that stretch for miles.
Got my children going hungry,
got my landlord getting mean;
got no way of moving forward;
got a bunch of broken dreams.
Got no man to rub my shoulders
or to wake me with a kiss;
got no faith in prayers or fairy tales;
seems life goes on and on like this:
buying cheap and counting coppers
so as not to break that ten pound note;
thinking always who needs uniform,
who’s outgrown their winter coat;
who has a birthday looming,
who has wrecked their good school shoes?
It’s no wonder how I cry at nights

when all I got to lose

is those going-downhill-and-run-down,

down-at-the-heel-and-can’t-feel,
kids-aint-having-no-fun-cos-there’s-eff-all-left-to-live-on,

can’t-stop-my-crying, feels-like-I’m-dying.

who-would-be-a-single-mother blues.

Austerity, you got me, too.

Just can’t seem to get ahead.

I’m young. I should be full of life.

but I am full of fear instead:

afraid they’ll stop my money

if I don’t go here or show up there;

afraid I’ll never find a job,

or get a flat, have cash to spare.

I did everything they told me:

went to college - and I tried my best;

but now it seems they lied to me;

my CV don’t impress.

Now they give me ‘work experience’

when what I need’s a chance:

a chance to work for proper pay,

a chance to play, a chance to dance.

Coz Mr C, you see, I’m young;

I got the legs, I got the shoes;

aint got no opportunity –

and me, well I don’t get to choose.

Coz, well, you guys get the choices

while the likes of us we lose.

We got those no-dough-oh-no

sanctioned-if-we-don’t-show,

hard-luck-mucked-up-isn’t-this-a-fuck-up,

what’s-the-point-of-growing-up blues.

And, Austerity, you’ve done for me.

I’ve got a disability.

My life’s been hard enough without

the extra stress you’ve given me.

I didn’t choose to be this way

and, whatever you might like to think,

your targets are unethical;

and your methods simply stink.

Austerity, you’ve dragged me down

so low some days I don’t get dressed.

I know I should; sometimes I try;

but, mostly, I am too depressed.

These days, you see, I can’t get out

(and I do so miss my little car)

my Care Plan doesn’t care at all

but they say that’s just the way things are.

Austerity, I’m on my knees

with precious little left to lose.

If I could walk a mile I’d say

you should walk a long mile in my shoes.

But, as things are, all I can say

is, when the Great Assessment’s made,

I hope you get what you deserve

and you are left alone, afraid,

to feel the utter hopelessness

that weighs like a monstrous stone

and to try to live as best you can

until the final trumpet’s blown.

Because, then you’ll see, Austerity,

what it is to have nothing to lose

except those low-down-don’t-forget-me,

please-let-me-live-and-let-me-be-as-happy-as-I-can-be-

scrap-heap, austerity blues.

Abigail Wyatt, May, 2015

Now I'm 64 (sing along, folks...)

(taken from David Cameron's got no heart club band)

Now I am older and done my fair share

Worked over forty years back from now

You still want to send me back to work again

Nil hours contract, from eight till ten.

I'll still be working past sixty three

Because you locked the door

I had no prevention, you took all my pension,

And you still want more.

You'll be older too

And in a few simple words

I blame it all on you

It would be better, employing the youth

They need things to do

I have worked for decades and you treat me like

I'm a pin, and out in a strike

It is so cold now, food is all gone now

And you still want more

I had no prevention, you took all my pension,

And you still want more.

Every day you stand and shout about austerity

Still you take from me

Who has scrimped and saved

I won't let you send me

To an early grave

You've had it all now, all but my pride

Though I am standing, still.

I will rise against you every single day

Despite your preference that I waste away

I wish you'd listen, and sad you are blind

I expected so much more

For you to hear me, for you to see me

And a million more

But NO!

Marie Antoinette, May, 2015