Hi. The name's Duncan Donaldo. I've been asked to keep a daily web diary of life on the dole because that's what I 'do'... I'm a dole-ite. Down here in the scummiest town in the south coast of England, Hastings.

Some of you may remember this diary from last year. It sort of stopped mid way. Well, I'm having another go this year. Hopefully it will be better.

The diary will be updated every day, 5 days a week, for the next few months. Hope you enjoy it. If you like, you can email me. If I get any good ones - or any, for that matter - I'll stick them up in the guestbook section.

I used to live in a flat just off the New Kent Road in London's Elephant And Castle, and now I live in the scummiest town on the south coast... Hastings. I moved here because I wanted to live by the sea, but couldn't afford Brighton. I thought Hastings was quite a good compromise at the time, but have since discovered that it's really, really, shit... and now I'm stuck here, in a poverty trap. You can find out more about the South Coast here and here are some pics to give you the gist:

Hastings (aerial view)		local entertainment - they dont even look like Queen		the lovely beach		staple diet

In order to help me keep this weblog going, Seethru have given a computer. I asked for something flashy so I could play games on it, but was instead given a shitty old Amstrad 386SX 33mhz clunkmeister.

By the way, the characters, locations and events in this weblog are all genuine. The names and some of the photos of the people involved have been changed to protect their identities.

More tomorrow...

02 - October 30th 2001

dole lotto

I've just come back from signing on at Hastings Jobcentre, my weekly ritual.

It was pretty painless, mainly since I managed to get myself signed by the bloke with the ponytail who doesn't actually care whether you've tried to find work or not.

And the fact that I got him rather than one of the fascists wasn't just down to luck, but to an extremely well-played game of...

01 Enter Jobcentre and take numbered ticket from dispenser 02 Check LED wall display to see how many people are supposed to be seen before you 03 Check who's on the desks and give each a 'gestapo rating' 04 If someone's taken a ticket since you did, help yourself to another 05 Go outside and smoke a fag 06 Walk back in and take a few more tickets 07 Wait. Take the occasional ticket while you're at it 08 Think about the universe while memorising your ticket numbers, which are 78, 80, 82, 83, 85 and 86 09 Your first number, 78, is now being called by Adolf Hitler (Gestapo Rating: 10/10), so naturally you ignore the announcement. He moves on. "79" he says. No takers. "Aha, someone else is playing the game too," you realise 10 "80" says Adolf. That's yours. Keep your head down 11 "81" snarls Adolf, clearly irritated. Some idiot walks over 12 The blonde jobcentre chick (Gestapo Rating 5/10) has finished with her current punter and is getting ready to call. She's usually not too bad, but looks in a bit of a mood today. You notice that ponytail bloke (2/10) is also moving into call mode. You have a quick glance at your remaining numbers - 82, 83, 85 and 86 - and remind yourself that somebody else in the room is also playing. 13 Step 13: "82" says blonde chick. Do you settle for her? No, you decide to hang in there. You check Ponytail bloke. He's almost ready! 14 "83" says blonde chick 15 "84" says blonde chick. Whoever's got 84 doesn't want her either. You suspect this player - your rival - owns ticket 87, and is also waiting for ponytail bloke 16 "85" says blonde chick. Come on, come on, come on... 17 "86" says ponytail bloke. Bingo. You have won a game of Dole Lotto

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03 - October 31st 2001

my scummy flat

It's completely paid for by the Housing Benefit. It's like most of the flats in this street in that respect, and like most of the flats in the neighbouring four blocks. Right along the seafront, too, overlooking the sea, are hundreds more scummy dole-ites just like me.

The only problem with my particular flat is that I've got the back of a quite large and extremely shitty hotel right smack between me and the beach. I see their car park, they see the sea. Bastards! Here's a picture of my view...

the doleite gallery
If you're on the dole, you're not allowed a nice view. That's the law. Here's the proof (click to enlarge)

crane view		beach view		rubbish view		garden view Mikko
relaxing view Mikko		wot u lookin' at? Gareth Beazant		toilet view Darryn R		munchies Shaun Chatterton
weird view Takashi		ass view Darryn R		oh shit view Doctor When

competition
Can you come up with another dole-style view? Download a special GIF here of my window (with transparent windows) and see what you can come up with. The best wins an (inexpensive) prize. Email to seethru. Thanks.

Have you got a crap view to rival mine? Send it to us and we'll stick it up.

Duncan

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04 - November 1st 2001

my "friend" brendan

It looks like today is going to be one of those 'avoid Brendan' days: he's actually outside my flat as I'm typing this, shouting up at my window...

my friend Brendan

The trouble with Brendan - apart from the fact that he's insane - is that he's from Texas. He's stereotypical. He knows everything about every-thing, has done everything you've done, only better, and insists on shaking your hand every three minutes, for absolutely no reason whatsoever. "Good job," he'll say. Then a couple of minutes later you might, for instance, notice a seagull standing on a motorbike seat, shitting. Point this fact out to Brendan and his hand'll be out again, waiting for another shake.

"Good job, mate! Good bloody job."

Actually that's another Brendan thing... overuse of the words 'mate' and 'bloody'. And the word 'quid', too. It makes him feel more English I suppose.

He pretends he's a doctor, as well. He claims he was a flying doctor in Australia for a while (yeah, right), and then moved here, to Hastings of all places, to work in the local hospital. He's actually got a proper 'doctor bag' with all sorts of can't-buy-it-in-a-chemist medical stuff inside, but it's all way, way past its use-by-date. So maybe he was once some kind of doctor, maybe not. One thing though: he sure as hell isn't now... he sells dodgy computer equipment (I've seen his car stuffed full of monitors).

Oh, hang on, he's stopped shouting now. (I'd better keep away from the window though, cos he'll be watching from somewhere).

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05 - November 2nd 2001

sacked from the dole

Uh-oh. Just received this letter.

It's true. I didn't turn up. It was an interview to be a Securicor Van Driver - a job I've always wanted to do. (Not).

Annoyingly, there's no way I would have got the job anyway. You need a ten year checkable work record, which I haven't got. And I would have told them - in all truth and honesty - that if someone tried to nick a bag of their cash off me, I'd give it up without a fight. (In fact I might even think about nicking it myself).

see?

Good news: I'm now going to be paid something called Hardship Allowance.

Bad news: It's between 20% and 40% less than what I'm getting now (£52.10).

Still, I reckon I can handle that.

see you next week
Duncan

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