Tabard Rape

Picture the scene; it’s a Saturday, your local high street is heaving with rushed shoppers. As your pushing your way through the bustling crowd, striving towards your destination, without warning, you’re pounced.


I’m talkin metaphorical rape of course… by charity workers. Often seen in packs and sporting brightly coloured tabards, these “volunteers” (and I use the term very loosely for reasons which you will soon discover) charity workers are as much of our high street wildlife as the pigeons feasting on our cast off chips. Within mere moments of spotting their prey, the bound, shrieking an over enthusiastic hello and moving (without pause) to a scripted monologue intended to pull on the heart strings of their victim. Their desired outcome? Your money.

Now please do not take this the wrong way, I am not against charities OR volunteer charity workers. I take offence to the paid ones, those very ones wearing the colour tabards.

I would not mind if it was a minimum wage, I know there are few people out there available or able to work for free in this day and age [insert economic crisis rant here], but most of them are being paid upwards of £7 an hour. How exactly is my donation of “just £3 a month supposed to help abused children / the R.S.P.C.A. / Africa / cancer research when it would take my monthly donation and that of another hapless soul just to fund the guy on the street for one hours worth of work.

I just want some insurance that my money is being spent on the cause in question…


One Response to “Tabard Rape”

  1. Clearly mere mortals such as you and me cannot be allowed to choose to whom we give our money, and must be “educated” by these self-righteous individuals.

    I was in Spain recently, and being a touristy area, every restaurant or cafe one visits is infested with Somali street hawkers trying to flog you dodgy Rolexes and knocked off sunglasses. And the owners of these establishments do little or nothing to keep these pests away. I earned a disapproving look from my family when I told one of them to “piss off, you bloody pirate”. To my mind, they are on a similar level as the charity types.

    My latest avoidance technique involves allowing them to speak to me, then replying “I’m sorry, I’d love to discuss this further but I’m mute”. One can then escape in the ensuing confusion…

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