Now don’t you for one little minute get me wrong, there’s plenty that one thousand seven hundred pounds per month will get you. From a cardboard box with Wi-Fi (if you’re astronomically lucky) in the fair old city of London to a veritable palace out in the arse end of nowhere (insert your disreputable location of choice here). Or think about all the gummy bears you could get your greasy mitts on with that sort of money.
There are recent graduates who would chew their own left arms off during interview for money in that particular salary bracket. Definitely not speaking from experience there. But one thing that £1700 per month probably won’t get you is a working police force. Even when you take opportunistic and bright eyed young things, arm them with judicious levels of pepper spray, train them in the operation of a Taser and set them loose on the streets, you’ll probably have already gone well over budget.
But none of this salient information matters one jot to our oblivious chancellor. He’s got budgets and is going to steadfastly adhere to them to the very end of his career. You see if he doesn’t. So what if the country goes down the toilet because there aren’t enough Bobbies on the beat to prevent all those petty thefts and murders? You’ll survive. And if not, it was probably definitely your time to go.
For one thing, it’s going to make things a hell of a lot easier on the NHS if life expectancy drops dramatically for those who insist on disappearing down dark alleys and the like. You may not like or want the system (then again, I’m sure George will be the first to remind you that Father Christmas is the only one who cares about what you want. And then he’ll come in quickly about how said figure doesn’t even exist) but when was the last time this government did something you really approved of? They’re merely conforming to stereotypes.