Jack Monroe #116 Burger and lies

[Smeghead]

Poverty Jack is dead following a SEVERE Waddelling. We are in the Corporate Shill Jack era now.

What will we do without the 453862220985th retelling of the The Poverty?

Her origin story might change? Raised by a pack of pineapple, jack Monroe has come full circle

 

[HotesTilaire]

Looking forward to her inevitable working-class blowing a tonne of cash on Xmas
By 27th Dec SB should be dressed head to toe in designer sportswear and be fed up of his PS5, new bike, skateboard and iPad
I say this as someone brought up working class.

Edit-I can spell it’s that’s the problem

 

[jenny2603]

The Cotswold company are going to have to hire more staff.

 

[holliebollie]

#CAN’tcookshan’tcook

 

[appleskin]

Here's an example of what's to come from the squiggles.

View attachment 341149

Stick them out the window!

 

[Captainmouse]

As a keen observer of pineapple prices, this is not well timed. Delmonte pineapples are £1.10 a tin. Before lockdown they were 2 tins for £1.00.

Not just demonte, crops down 40%

Pineapple production slashed as dry weather hits farmers

Pineapple prices have soared and packing sheds are struggling to keep up with Christmas supply as dry weather impacts the summer crop.

www.abc.net.au

 

[FrumpyCat]

Scotsman columnists win Zero Tolerance Awards | The Scotsman




I think it is fair to say that Edwina rather got under her skin. 'Mummy' said her piece in a written response the next day, 4th February 2014.


Dear Edwina,

It’s 9 o'clock on Tuesday, the morning after the night before, where we were both on a panel on The Big Benefits Row on Channel 5. I haven’t watched it back, I was there, and know what I look like when I’m angry.

I need to get this out – because it’s everything I wanted to say last night but couldn’t, as I kept being rudely shouted over by you. Honestly, my three year old behaves better than that. At least he knows that when Mummy does her ‘will you just be QUIET and LISTEN to me’ then the best thing to do is to stop running your mouth and let Mummy say her piece.

But you didn’t. Because you were terrified of what I had to say.

I wanted to say, when asked by Matthew Wright, that poverty is almost indescribable to someone as blinkered as you. That turning off the fridge because it’s empty anyway, that sitting across the table from your young son enviously staring down his breakfast, having freezing cold showers and putting your child to bed in god knows how many layers of clothes in the evening – it’s distressing. Depressing. Destabilising.

Sure – you could probably live on benefits for a week to ‘prove it could be done’. But imagine living for 11 weeks with no housing benefit, because of ‘delays’. Imagine those 77 days of being chased for rent that you can’t pay, ignoring the phone, ignoring the door, drawing the curtains so the bailiffs can’t see that you’re home, cradling your son to your chest and sobbing that this is where it’s all ended up. It feels endless. Hopeless. Cold. Wet. Day after day of ‘no’. No we aren’t looking for staff. No there isn’t anything else to eat. No I can’t put the heating on. No I haven’t got any money to pay my rent arrears. No, no, no,


Sitting on the bathroom floor vomiting up the paracetamol and sleeping pills I took to try to end my own life – that wasn’t, as you hissed in an aside, “a rich girl pretending to be poor.” I was alone, with nobody to ‘pretend’ to. I didn’t write about my suicide attempts, because I was scared that if anyone knew how bad things were, I would lose my son. There was a lot I didn’t write about. You become adept at keeping up appearances, at smiling and saying you’re fine. It was almost a year before I was referred to a food bank for help, almost a year of searching for work, holding my home and my son together at the seams with an iron will. And all those ‘no’s.

When you descend into personal attacks against your opponent, it is because you have no political argument left.

When you tweet your opponent's grandfather's obituary all over the internet in a foul attempt at smearing their reputation, it is because you are scum.

Did you stop to think for one moment how you might have made my family feel? My nan, my mum, my dad, all people who dearly love the man whose life and death you used in a live television debate last night to try to unsettle your opponent? Of course you didn’t.

I was asked to sell my life rights to a movie director last week. I refused on two counts.

1. I’m not that interesting. As proved by you, when the biggest scandal you can dig up is that I used to drink Aldi lemonade with my grandad at his guest house.

2. I’m not an island. My life is interwoven with complex relationships, as are all of ours. Having been subjected to professional trolling for over a year now, I would never put my family through those levels of abuse. I get death threats. Rape threats. Personal attacks on my weight, appearance, sexuality, education, lack thereof. So I try to retain a degree of privacy, for the ordinary people on the periphery of the right wing media monstering of Jack Monroe. If you love someone, you don’t throw them into a bear pit.

If you’d have been willing to listen, you’d have realised how spectacularly you missed the point.

Poverty can happen to anyone. That’s why I unsettle you and your cronies. Because the Tory party rhetoric of ‘work hard and get on’ can fall apart in the blink of an eyelid. I worked hard. I got on. And I still spent a year and a half scrabbling around in a festering pit of depression, joblessness, benefit delays and suspensions, hunger, and the entrenching, gut wrenching fear that I was failing as a parent.

I’ve never claimed anywhere that my family were “poor”. They weren’t “rich” either. I’m not really sure what they were, which I guess makes them quite ordinary. As a child, I had dinner on the table and always had clean clothes. We had a holiday a year in a caravan in Devon or Yorkshire, and the occasional foray to Ireland.

I went to a grammar school, not with any coaching or private tuition, I just sat the entrance exam aged 10 and was offered a place. It was hardly Eton. I struggled at that school, grades gradually getting worse each year, until I dropped out with not enough GCSEs to take A Levels. I went to work, in a shop, at the age of 16. No degree, no Oxbridge education, no feet on ladders, no family business to inherit – just me and about £5.85 an hour.

But thank you, for giving me the opportunity to set the record straight about my upbringing live on air.

Thank you for showing your party to be the nasty, out of touch, gutter-scraping worms that they are.

Thank you for the extra 5,000 supporters I’ve had on Twitter, my blog, personal emails since your revolting attack.

And I ultimately feel very sad for you. Sad that you can say on television, without an ounce of remorse, that people should be starving in Britain. Sad that you cannot see beyond party battle lines to the real human pain and suffering up and down the country. Because it’s easier to talk in statistics and sound bites than it is to hear one persons story. It’s easier to shout down than to have to hear what poverty is like in Britain.

As for your little hissed aside when the cameras stopped rolling: “Still working for Sainsburys are you?” Yes, I am. The ad campaign runs for another couple of days. I guess I ‘worked hard and got on.’

My mum wants you to apologise, by the way. Are you woman enough?

Jack

But I thought there was a family business to inherit?

 

[Hollaaa]

#CanYouNot

This is my new favourite hashtag. I can (hahaha) see a future brand direction where, following a Del Monte chaos, she turns her back completely on canned goods and this is the book title. It'll be 50 ways with liberated sausage meat, mussels and eggs.

 

[Flivver]

Stick them out the window!

The defenestration of the pineapple.

 

[MooBelle]

Uh Oh...check out the Del Monte IG post....
I can't do screenshots but a squiggle has posted a link to the Scotsman piece.....

also 28 likes in 4 hours...

 

[Scarletfever]

Here's an idea for Jack - shut down your tip jar. Put your Patreon on pause for six months (or longer). Refund the Thrifty Shades lot.

Baby steps, but you will get there!

Congrats on the Del Monte job, please try not to duck it up.

PS. Stop pretending to be poor

PPS. this thread is like the third result if you Google JM and Del Monte

 

[AdultHumanFemale]

Well that’s possibly the most hits that site has had in a few seconds!View attachment 340818
She looks like herself, if that makes sense? £10,000 going to magic breakfast though which is cool.

That smile and the disconnect with the kind-of spaced out, uninterested glare from those eyes is a bit grim.

Kind of reminds me of how I feel in every Teams meeting I have. I'm here, but I bleeping hate it.

 

[Silver Linings]

There’s a ‘real’ name attached to the profile but the profile is private. We’ll get the blame regardless. Tiresome.

 

[Marmalade Atkins]

Maybe a reminder on each new thread asking people who post here to ignore obvious troll posts on social media, to not screen shot them and, of course, to not contact Jack.

 

[jenny2603]

Another Revolting Squiggle on Insta

 

[traumatised sideboard]

So that's why she's been quiet. Trying not to upset Del Monte before they've even started. Are we running a sweepstake for how long this six-month collaboration is actually going to last? I'm taking four weeks. Nice brand-friendly Jack takes far more restraint and self-discipline than she can muster for any period of time before, like the cockroach man in Men In Black, the veil slips to reveal vituperative Twitter Jack.

Del Monte, you could have just asked me to program a special tinned fruit version of Slopbot. Not that I'd have done it for you (I have a sense of morality and ethics) but I'm just saying, it would have been far better value for money. Comes with a no chaos guarantee and all.

 

[Icing _on_ the_cake]

I don't mind her collabing with brands. And tbh pretty much any brand, there's dirt on. Cadbury's, Nestle, Walmart, Uncle Ben's etc etc etc. What I do mind is her pretending to be poor, grifting and rattling the tip jar after.

 

[Limey]

The pantry door creaks showing empty Fablon shelves
The freezer echoes with mournful electrical whirrings
The boy goes ragged trousered to school
The woman waits at the letterbox
The bills line up behind the clock
The dog* whimpers empty-bellied in sleep
The building society writes letters penned in vitriol
The house** waits, waits, waits.
Waits for the giro***

* Brambly mice
** crappy bungalow
*** Patreon

Yas! She is Adrian Mole. Might re-work 'Do You Weep, Mrs. Thatcher, Do You Weep?'.

 

[HotesTilaire]

I think a reminder not to screenshot and post anyone commenting on any JM post by linking the Scotsman

 

[DinosaurSenior]

"parter"....oh dear