In a little while - reckoning the little squares at their market value of one pound each - he was worth about one hundred pounds, and the working classes were still in the same condition as when they began, and were still tearing into their work as if their lives depended upon it.
After a while the rest of the crowd began to laugh, and their merriment increased when the kind-hearted capitalist, just after having sold a pound's worth of necessaries to each of his workers, suddenly took their tools - the Machinery of Production - the knives away from them, and informed them that as owing to Over Production all his store-houses were glutted with the necessaries of life, he had decided to close down the works.
`Well, and wot the bloody 'ell are we to do now?' demanded Philpot.
`That's not my business,' replied the kind-hearted capitalist.`I've paid you your wages, and provided you with Plenty of Work for a long time past.I have no more work for you to do at present.Come round again in a few months' time and I'll see what I can do for you.'
`But what about the necessaries of life?' demanded Harlow.`We must have something to eat.'
`Of course you must,' replied the capitalist, affably; `and I shall be very pleased to sell you some.'
`But we ain't got no bloody money!'
`Well, you can't expect me to give you my goods for nothing! You didn't work for me for nothing, you know.I paid you for your work and you should have saved something: you should have been thrifty like me.Look how I have got on by being thrifty!'
The unemployed looked blankly at each other, but the rest of the crowd only laughed; and then the three unemployed began to abuse the kind-hearted Capitalist, demanding that he should give them some of the necessaries of life that he had piled up in his warehouses, or to be allowed to work and produce some more for their own needs; and even threatened to take some of the things by force if he did not comply with their demands.But the kind-hearted Capitalist told them not to be insolent, and spoke to them about honesty, and said if they were not careful he would have their faces battered in for them by the police, or if necessary he would call out the military and have them shot down like dogs, the same as he had done before at Featherstone and Belfast.
`Of course,' continued the kind-hearted capitalist, `if it were not for foreign competition I should be able to sell these things that you have made, and then I should be able to give you Plenty of Work again:
but until I have sold them to somebody or other, or until I have used them myself, you will have to remain idle.'
`Well, this takes the bloody biskit, don't it?' said Harlow.
`The only thing as I can see for it,' said Philpot mournfully, `is to 'ave a unemployed procession.'
`That's the idear,' said Harlow, and the three began to march about the room in Indian file, singing:
`We've got no work to do-oo-oo'
We've got no work to do-oo-oo!
Just because we've been workin' a dam sight too hard, Now we've got no work to do.'
As they marched round, the crowd jeered at them and made offensive remarks.Crass said that anyone could see that they were a lot of lazy, drunken loafers who had never done a fair day's work in their lives and never intended to.
`We shan't never get nothing like this, you know,' said Philpot.
`Let's try the religious dodge.'
`All right,' agreed Harlow.`What shall we give 'em?'
`I know!' cried Philpot after a moment's deliberation.`"Let my lower lights be burning." That always makes 'em part up.'
The three unemployed accordingly resumed their march round the room, singing mournfully and imitating the usual whine of street-singers:
`Trim your fee-bil lamp me brither-in, Some poor sail-er tempest torst, Strugglin' 'ard to save the 'arb-er, Hin the dark-niss may be lorst, So let try lower lights be burning, Send 'er gleam acrost the wave, Some poor shipwrecked, struggling seaman, You may rescue, you may save.'
`Kind frens,' said Philpot, removing his cap and addressing the crowd, `we're hall honest British workin' men, but we've been hout of work for the last twenty years on account of foreign competition and over-production.We don't come hout 'ere because we're too lazy to work; it's because we can't get a job.If it wasn't for foreign competition, the kind'earted Hinglish capitalists would be able to sell their goods and give us Plenty of Work, and if they could, Iassure you that we should hall be perfectly willing and contented to go on workin' our bloody guts out for the benefit of our masters for the rest of our lives.We're quite willin' to work: that's hall we arst for - Plenty of Work - but as we can't get it we're forced to come out 'ere and arst you to spare a few coppers towards a crust of bread and a night's lodgin'.'
As Philpot held out his cap for subscriptions, some of them attempted to expectorate into it, but the more charitable put in pieces of cinder or dirt from the floor, and the kind-hearted capitalist was so affected by the sight of their misery that he gave them one of the sovereigns he had in us pocket: but as this was of no use to them they immediately returned it to him in exchange for one of the small squares of the necessaries of life, which they divided and greedily devoured.And when they had finished eating they gathered round the philanthropist and sang, `For he's a jolly good fellow,' and afterwards Harlow suggested that they should ask him if he would allow them to elect him to Parliament.
