In came another claimant. Not walking but waddling. Synthetic fabrics, soft shoes, pony-tail, cigarette, eyes wary. Tamsin pulled a fresh form from the shelf and laid it on her desk.
‘I've come about that ad,’ said the claimant, leaning into the microphone. She looked confident.
‘No smoking in here,’ said Tamsin.
The claimant took a lengthy drag and dropped her cigarette.
‘I got that thing,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘That fuckin ad that says if you don’t do nothing all day and just watch TV and eat and claim benefits. I got that.’
‘Oh, you qualify then,’ said Tamsin. She smiled brightly and pushed the form under her glass partition. ‘Fill this out and wait over there.’
‘Got a pen?’
‘Certainly.’
In the ceiling above where the claimant sat penning a description of her day's routine a panel slid open. Soon afterwards, a two-hundred-and-fifty-ton block of granite fell from it.