The beneficiary wonders what happened to all the jobs. In days gone by he might’ve been a door-to-door encyclopaedia salesman (damn internet) or a gum-digger up north (damn synthetic resins).
He’s in the prime of his life — more arms than Colin Faeroe, more kidneys that Neil Southgate — sitting idle.
What he wants to do is drive an ice cream van, but he doesn’t have the capital. And what about the role of ice cream in childhood obesity? And if a kid goes missing, who’s the prime suspect?
He fills his days with worries no one had in days gone by.