Everyone should read the excellent Don Franks poem on indymedia. It's a heart warming tale of workers getting screwed over:
Quoth Ruth, the Workhouse Overseer, "Some time in 2008Yay for the recalcitrancy (which may or may not be a word).
you might or might not get 12 an hour, unless the boss says wait
Your future rise depends on things called ECONOMIC CONDITIONS
- that’s stuff too hard to understand at checkouts or City missions"
"Fine, fine" said Ross, "Whatever you say -it’s a step in the right direction.
We appreciate don’t we paupers, crumbs, each year ‘till the resurrection?"
"Hang on there just a minute Ross", a recalcitrant inmate muttered
"How about we tell them fuck these crumbs and have fresh baked bread that’s buttered?"
Bread just the same as the lady has and you and Ruth for that matter?"
"Don’t listen to that old prick" said Ross "He’s as mad as a bloody hatter"
And so the paupers one more time told the madman where to go
And sang the great ladies praises as her carriage swept off in the snow.
And a merry Christmas was had in two oh five and six and seven
While a High Wage High Skill Economy
awaited them all in heaven.