Sneeze, fart and kick the dog

When asked whether they'd had disabled people round their's, 90 per cent of people said no. Paul Carter thinks he's figured out why

Let’s face it, it’s a pretty rubbish time to be a disabled person at the moment. It does feel a little bit like we’re under siege from all sides. If it’s not benefit cuts it’s hysterical tales of widespread fraud in the system.

Strangely, this got me thinking, and ties in to something intriguing I read about a short while ago that’s probably linked. Research carried out by Scope, (the charity which publishes Disability Now)  suggested that 90 per cent of people, a lot by anyone’s standards, had never had a disabled person in their house for a social occasion.

Well come on. It’s hardly surprising is it? Considering the monumental amount of guff being tooted and parped out by the right-wing press about layabout disabled people, and the Chancellor banging on about people on benefits making “lifestyle choices” (yeah, right) we’re fortunate that the wider public allow even a lucky ten per cent of us social lives. Or allow us out of our houses at all for that matter.

After all, if you’re stupid, ignorant and bigoted, it’s obvious that we’re all no-mark, wasteful scrounging gits who are faking being a bit wrong to get as much as we can.

It’s no wonder people don’t want us round their gaffs for some food and a film.

We’d probably break wind at the table and sneeze in the casserole. That’s before peeing on the seat, kicking your pet dog and leering at your wife. After all, that’s what we’re like. We’re all bastards.

After dinner (which was bland and needed more salt by the way), we’d probably leave for a rehearsal with the local motorcyle stunt troupe, before squeezing in a bit of Parkour on the way home. While claiming Incapacity Benefit of course.

Obviously, there is a serious side to all this, and I don’t make light of it lightly.

It’s just that if that’s the way things are going to be then so be it. I quite like the idea of being a misanthropic renegade operating on the fringes of society, using my status as a disabled person as an excuse to break all socially accepted norms and moral values. Like a disabled superantihero. If that’s what’s expected of me than I’m happy to run with it. Metaphorically of course. I don’t do running.

Not unless there’s a photographer from the Daily Mail hiding in the bushes waiting to catch me do it.