Work's Too Good For Them

One of the less anticipated consequences of British independence from the Euro-wogs has been the reluctance of the master race to step up to the plate and rush into all those jobs the migrants had stolen. Such has been the severity of the labour shortage that Her Majesty's Government resorted to ordering a few beastly foreigners back into the country, and hiring the charmingly-named operators Pro-Force and Concordia to "maintain high standards of immigration control and migrant welfare." In Oldspeak, as might be expected, this means that in many cases accommodation has been provided which is unsafe, uncomfortable, unhygienic and cold, without running water or kitchen, but with a healthy dose of Go Home Van Land hospitality. Even more encouragingly, workers have been denied contracts in their own barbarous languages, thereby incentivising them to learn English and save their employers the effort of shouting. Health and safety equipment has of course been relegated to the bonfire of red tape. So far there has been no repeat of the Morecambe Bay cull of Heathen Chinee, but the Ministry for Wog Control doubtless lives in hope of a fire here and there once the weather warms up, just so the survivors can understand how grateful they ought to be.