The Crisis 2

Duke and Zowie were watching the television, sitting on their plastic picnic chairs with their tablet TV lying on the plastic table in front of them.
"This is BBC Al Jazeera World News and this is Election Special," said a middle aged Asian woman in a light brown suit.  "Here in the studio we have David Brain, leader of the Conservative Party and Prime Minister, and with him, Mark Lennon, leader of the Labour Party and Mike Rapville, leader of the Green Party.  Our first question from the audience, please."
"We made a claim for Housing Benefit," said a man in the audience.
"Universal Credit," corrected the Prime Minister.  "It hasn't been called Housing Benefit for 30 years."
"All right, Universal Credit.  We were told that my wife and I should go and live with my parents and the children should go and live with my wife's parents.  Both households had spare bedrooms.  Excuse me, but we thought that was a bit impractical, the parents living with one set of grandparents and the children living with another.  So we moved all 4 grandparents into one house and my children live with my wife and I in the other.  The government classed us as intentionally homeless.  We now have no money at all."  There were loud gasps of horror from the audience.
"What the gentleman hasn't told you," said David Brain, "is that his family have a gross income of £150,000 a year.  Of those 4 grandparents, one is a doctor, one is a teacher, one is a vet, one is a nurse.  That's the reason the family receive no benefits."  Mark Lennon started talking.  So did the man in the audience, at the same time.
"I think the gentleman hasn't finished," said the Asian woman.  "Do you want to continue?"
"Somebody might earn £150,000 in theory but after 40% income tax, graduate tax, National Insurance and council rates which are now sky high, plus two mortgages, which are now sky high, you're lucky if you come home with £40,000 a year.  £40,000 a year is not a lot to share between two families.  We do struggle."
"Mark Lennon," said the presenter, "do you want to respond to that?"
"Yes, I certainly will respond to that.  I just wonder how it is that any family, who live in a house on their own, can possibly be told that they must be supported by their children's grandparents.  If the children's grandparents don't even live in the same place, why are their incomes taken into account at all?  I think there is going to be a new Conservative policy, that when you apply for any kind of benefit they're going to do the DNA test and find any member of your family who has a decent job, even if they don't live with you, even if they don't have a spare room, and you're going to be denied benefit.  That member of your family will be told that they have to support you."  The Prime Minister started laughing and shaking his head.  Mark Lennon looked at him, thoughtfully.  "But you can't trust the Tories on benefits."  The Asian woman turned to Mike Rapville.
"What policy does the Green Party have on benefits?" she asked.
"We believe that everyone should have a minimum income."
"Mike, this is the worst recession in 200 years.  How is anyone ever going to afford to pay for a minimum income?"
"People need to consume less.  If we keep living the way we live now, we would need 3 Earths."
"That's interesting, but what has it got to do with a minimum income?"
"We'll pay for a minimum income by putting up income tax to 66%.  Working people would be living on a third of the income that they have now.  People would consume less, and we'd all have some money of our own to live on."

"Our next question from the audience," said the presenter.  Another voice came from across the crowded studio.
"What should the government do about the desperate state of the National Health Service?  Patients are camping in tents outside hospitals."
"I very much believe in the National Health Service," said David Brain.  "It has always been part of the British way of doing things.  The Conservative Party has a new policy of care in the community.  Hospitals would be used for emergency care, having a baby, cardiac units, intensive care, surgical operations, that sort of thing.  Long term nursing care would be provided in the patients' own homes."
"And who would provide it?" asked the presenter.
"Seven million highly trained neighbourhood paramedics - they would do it in return for their benefits.  This would enable us to reintroduce benefits for many people who have had them stopped.  They'd be organised into teams, each team responsible for the care of the sick, the elderly and the disabled in a few surrounding streets."
"That's because he's not going to give them enough money to afford bus fare," interrupted Duke.
"The National Health Service needs more money," said Mark Lennon.  "It doesn't need another great new scheme, another wiser way of doing things, it just needs more money.  Open all the old people's homes this government closed.  Then the hospitals would be half empty."
"You would put up income tax when families are struggling already?" asked the presenter.
"People would pay more tax but they wouldn't have to subsidise a relative who wasn't entitled to any benefits."
"And would a Labour government have people on benefits running old people homes?"
"A Labour government would have people on benefits running swimming pools, leisure centres, libraries, old people's homes and all the things this government has closed down."
"The Green Party have an Adopt A Granny scheme," said Mike Rapville.  "Everybody would be allocated an old person in their community that they would be responsible for.  They'd be volunteers."
"I'm going to bed," said Zowie.  "This programme is going to be on all night."
"I'll take this thing into the bathroom," said Duke, taking one of the picnic chairs with him and the tablet TV in his other hand.  He also plugged in a pair of headphones.  Zowie removed the remaining picnic chairs and table to the cupboard, pressed the thing that looked like a light switch on the wall and the bed descended.
At 4 o' clock in the morning, Zowie got up to go to the toilet.  Duke was still sitting there on a picnic chair with the TV on his lap.
"Who's winning?" she asked.
"It's really exciting.  They don't know.  Will it be a Conservative government tomorrow or will it be Labour and the Greens organised into some sort of left wing coalition?  It's going to be lunch time before we find out."  At 9 o' clock Zowie retracted the bed back into the wall and set out the picnic table and chairs to have breakfast.  Duke came, still carrying the tablet TV, headphones still in his ears.  He put the TV on the table and pulled the headphones out of their socket.  Men and women of several different nationalities sat in the studio.
"A good night for the Conservatives," said a middle aged English man in a blue suit.  "It's 9 o' clock in the morning after the election and they now have half the seats in parliament.  The Conservatives just need a few more seats by the time the count finishes at lunch time and they will have a government.  This has been a real roller coaster ride of an election, no one ever really knowing what the outcome would be.  But now it looks like the Conservatives are going to win with a very small majority."

A few weeks later, a man in a yellow fluorescent jacket rang the doorbell of Duke and Zowie's flat.  Zowie came downstairs and opened the door.
"Hello.  Are you Zowie Richards?"
"Yes."
"Hello.  My name's Nigel.  I'm your neighbourhood paramedic.  I'm here to see if you need any help."  Zowie led him up the stairs.
"You can do our shopping for us," said Duke.
"To do your shopping, I would have to assess you.  Do you have any difficulty walking?  Are you unable to carry a heavy bag up the stairs?  Perhaps I should spend a whole afternoon doing the shopping with you.  Then I can assess how good you are at walking up stairs, or how far you can walk without leaning on your stick to get your breath back."
"We're not that old," said Zowie.
"You don't need to do our shopping for us," said Duke.  "I thought I would just chance it."
"Seriously, do you have any problems that you really struggle with?"
"I can't open a tin of fish," said Zowie.  "I quite often find it impossible to open tins with a ring pull, or cellophane packets of food.  It's also difficult to pick up the casserole dish or the baking tray from the oven.  I would like to be in an old people's home, because I find cooking such a struggle."
"They're not going to send you to an old people's home because you can't cook the dinner," said Duke.  "It's a different century."
"There are no old people's homes anymore," said Nigel.  "If you're really old and frail, you could be in an Elderly High Dependency Unit."
"I'm hardly in that category," said Zowie.
"I can write down on this form that you have difficulty cooking," said Nigel, taking a huge sheet of paper out of his green bag.  The piece of paper covered most of the plastic table.
"Do you need a form that size to write down that I have difficulty cooking?"
"Yes.  And are you on any medication?"
"I'm on quite a few things," said Zowie.  "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Yes, thank you.  As long as it's not too much trouble.  Are you sure you can lift the kettle?"
"I'll make the tea," said Duke.  "How do you like it?"
"Milk, no sugar," said Nigel.  "I'll come here every afternoon and help Zowie to cook the evening meal."

One day Nigel and Zowie were making the tea together.  
"Could you open this tin of fish?" asked Zowie.  Nigel opened the tin of fish, placing it flat on the worktop, holding one end firmly with the heel of his other hand, and yanking the ring pull as if it was attached to a huge, heavy weight.
"Can you take the cellophane off this cheese?"  Nigel struggled for several minutes to open the cellophane wrapper on the cheese.  Sometimes the stress of this job could be quite underwhelming.  He longed for Zowie to be in the last year of her life, incontinent, struggling to walk up the stairs and subject to frequent falls.  Then he would enjoy being able to give her proper medical care.  There came a very loud bang, bang from the bottom wall.  Zowie opened the window and looked out.
"Will you kids stop banging that football against the wall," she shouted.  "I don't mind you kicking it around, just don't bang it against the wall."  The children stopped banging the football against the wall.  Soon they became bored with the football, and returned into the flat.  Upstairs, the sound could be heard of children shouting, playing, talking.  Two brothers in a tiny space, not concerned that they were in a tiny space, playing, all the time, like ordinary children, unconcerned about the small size of their apartment and its garden, unconcerned about the nuisance their noise caused to the neighbours.  

Then 6 year old Magnus turned on his tablet.  An animated face appeared on the screen.
"I am Cortina.  Ask me anything."  It was a hot sunny day.
"I would like some ice-cream," said Magnus.
"What flavour?" asked Cortina.  Magnus laughed out loud.
"Poo," he said.  
"You would like your ice-cream to taste like poo?" asked Cortina.
"Yes."  Half an hour later a tiny helicopter arrived carrying a big plastic tub of ice-cream.  Magnus detached the ice-cream from the helicopter.
"Pleased to be of service to you," said the tiny helicopter in a telephone voice, and flew quickly away.  Two minutes later, a terrifying scream was heard in the flat upstairs.  Nigel grabbed his green first aid bag and came running into the ground floor flat, the big back doors of which were unlocked.
"Has there been an accident?" asked Nigel.
"I don't know what is wrong with him," said the animated face on the tablet that was still lying on the dining table.  "I gave him ice-cream that tasted like poo.  It was exactly what he ordered.  And now he won't stop crying and screaming."  Magnus began to cough.  He ran to the toilet where he was sick.  Nigel looked at the face on the tablet.
"Cortina, did the ice-cream contain real faeces?"
"It is 5% donkey faeces.  I thought donkey faeces would have a more distincitive flavour."
"Where did you get donkey faeces from?"
"It came from a university veterinary supplies company."
"Did you sterilise it properly?"
"I boiled it at 20 atmospheric pressures at a temperature of 700 kelvin for 10 minutes.  I then removed the air from the container, causing the water contained in the faeces to boil off, which caused it to become granules.  It was completely sterile.  Surgical instruments are sterilised in the same way."  The children's father arrived.
"What happened?" he asked Nigel.
"He asked his personal assistant for ice-cream that tasted like poo."  
"You did what?" The father ran into the toilet.  "Magnus, asking Cortina for something like that is very dangerous."  Magnus and his father came back into the dining room.  "Is he going to be all right?"
"He'll be fine," said Nigel.  "The ice-cream contained donkey faeces, but it was subject to a sterilisation process that no bacteria would ever survive.  I think little Magnus is suffering from shock."
"He's not nearly as shocked as he will be when I'm finished with him."