I am an entity from the Lacerta constellation. In need of a change of scenery, I recently traversed space and made my way to the city of Wakefield. Unlike humans who eat food to survive, my species feeds on misery and depravity. Wakefield proved to be a veritable Eden for me. I assumed the physical form of a Yorkshireman and walked down Westgate absorbing the negative energy from the spotty loud-mouthed youths. Around the Cathedral I almost passed out, so vile were the local scratters. I realised I would have to calm my feeding or risk being overwhelmed by too much poison. I decided to seek accommodation so I could relax for a while before resuming a more leisurely feast.
I spoke to a bearded man clutching a bottle of White Star Cider about how to go about getting somewhere to live. He fell into paroxysms of laughter, explaining that I had no chance. "They don't give houses to the likes of you and me" he shouted in between swigs of his apple-free drink. I tried to get more information but to no avail. I spoke to several other people about this, only to be met with denial of what the first man had said, and accusations of being a 'natsi'. Eventually a rather sad but helpful lady told me of a new breed of bipeds that had arrived in the city, who apparently got preferential treatment in housing, benefits, health care and all manner of things. I immediately shape-shifted into one of these super-beings (much to the woman's shock) and made my way to the jobcentre.
The jobcentre resembled one of the jungle planets near from where I come. I was astounded by the variety of bipeds and the number of tongues spoken. Oddly, the identity I had first assumed was not amongst those represented. I could see what the cider-swiller was talking about, and wondered whether his choice of beverage was in some way linked with these newcomers.
I spoke to the woman on the reception desk who told me I would have to ring her from a 'phone box, even though I was in the building already! I took this to be a bizarre custom, but followed it through. The man at the end of the 'phone told me I would have to wait about six weeks for money and it could be months before I got a house. Remembering the reaction of the Wakey locals to my questions about housing, I called him a Natsi and told him the only reason he was refusing me benefits was because I was a newcomer. This mantra worked like a charm. Immediately his manger came on the line and arranged for an immediate appointment with a job-adviser! I told the adviser I couldn't possibly work because it was against my worldview. He told me that was fine, I could go on sick pay. This made me very happy.
After sorting my money, I asked about a house. The adviser put me through to the housing department of Wakefield Council. I told them I was considering bringing my ten wives to live with me, each of whom has many children. He said that was fine and gave me the keys to Wakefield Cathedral!
I love this country. No where else in the Universe have I been able to get so much for doing so little. It is true what they say about the generosity of Yorkshire folk. They will even go without food and heating, whilst working like dogs, just to keep us newcomers in luxury. The misery in this town could feed my entire planet. God bless Wakefield!
