blood-sucking immigrants

I write this entry (offline) from the cold metal benches of Lunar House in Croydon. Well-named, commented my wife, given the absurd bureaucracy which daily plays out within its walls. Lunar House is the Home Office's clearing house for immigrants, where documents are produced and vast quantities of money paid for the privilege of living and working in this country and paying taxes.

I have two observations: 1. From reading the papers in this country you'd be forgiven for believing that immigrants roll off the boat in Dover to a waiting council house wallpapered with social security cheques, and live happily ever after off the sweat of the English yeomanry's common toil, stirring from their sloth from time to time only to plot the destruction of everything we hold dear. I'm willing to bet that it would come as an almighty shock to the average sun-reader to know that the price for a foreigner married to an english citizen to enter the country is in the region of £300; the price for remaining after two years is £500 (both non-refundable in the event of refusal, natch); and stipulated in both types of visa is a prohibition in recourse to public funds. Say hello to the folks who clean our toilets, drive our cabs, serve our coffee, pay taxes for our public services and generally get abused and despised by those who don't know better, and some of those who do.

The second observation will have to wait - they've just called our number. Joy . . .