I had the misfortune earlier today to find myself travelling home on a train opposite a gaggle of Chuggers (or, as Sean Lock more appropriately refers to them, ‘Chunts’) who were training up a new recruit for his first day of doorstep begging. On the off-chance that a reader might happen along who hasn’t heard either term, ‘Chugger’ is a portmanteau word combining the ‘ch’ from ‘charity’, with the ‘ugger’ from mugger – i.e. ‘Charity Mugger’. Chunt is also a portmanteau word, with the ‘ch’ derived from the same source...

The gaggle of chuggers sitting across from me was made up of three ‘old hands’ – two loud and cocky young men in sharp suits and a moderately attractive girl who’s probably little more than a honey trap used for luring in new recruits – and a spotty little herb called Justin who they were grooming to go out and do their dirty work for them. Justin had been given a number of prepared ‘opening gambit’ speeches with which to introduce himself on total stranger’s doorsteps, and was working through them with his ‘team leader’ in a series of improvs which were intended to familiarise him with the ‘stroppy’ punter, the ‘timid’ punter, the ‘haven’t-got-time’ punter and countless other ‘punter’ variations, all of whom seemed to have one thing in common – a desire not to give money to the unctuously friendly total stranger who had appeared begging on their doorstep.

‘Good morning, my name’s Justin, how are you today?’ Justin began brightly.

‘Fine, mate, how are you?’ team leader replied, in a manner that I must say was far friendlier than the one I usually use when called to my front door by beggars.

‘I’m fine too, thank you’ said Justin. Then; ‘I’m out today on behalf of the NDCS – The National Society for Deaf Children [NB: acronyms obviously not one of Justin’s strong points, you’ll note, though he was not challenged once by his team leader on this particular aspect of his spiel] – I’m sure you’ve heard of us? Yes? Good... [This, I think, is what’s referred to by people like Derren Brown as a ‘push’]...

‘...You’ll know then... [another ‘push’ – this one doubly effective because of its ‘puff point power’]... that we [WE?] ...work tirelessly to support, integrate, and enable deaf children in every aspect of their daily lives, and we’re collecting today in this area... [Oh JOY!]... to raise support... [that’s “Money” in old money]...to ensure that we can continue to do so... [and if you don’t give me some money, you evil bastard, those poor little deaf kids won’t be supported or integrated or enabled at all and they’ll probably STARVE TO DEATH and it will all be your fault...]...

‘...Some of your neighbours have very generously donated already... [Yeah, so what kind of tightwad does that make you if your neighbours have all given me bucketloads and you slam the door in my face, you evil, deaf child hating bastard?]... and we feel sure... [there’s that ‘we’ again – where are they, hiding round the corner? Is Pudsey with them? Lennie Henry?]... you would welcome the opportunity to do so too... [What? Izzit? Mep?]...’ etc etc etc.

Give him his due, Justin was working really hard trying to remember all of this bolleaux and Honey Trap Girl herself admitted that it was really hard to ‘remember what the initials stood for and all that...’ but I kind of got the feeling, by about the twentieth or so improv exchange, that his heart wasn’t really in it and that rather than feeling any personal or moral imperative to raise money for the deaf he was probably just doing it in the hope of grubbing up a few quid in commission so he could go down the pub on Friday night, or possibly in order to reassure his work advisor at the job centre that he is actively seeking work, is willing to do ANYTHING, and therefore should be eligible to receive his job-seekers allowance this week so he can bung his poor old mum a few quid for food and rent. Or something.

Could there be any more morally corrupt job than ‘chugging’ for a living? Well, having said that, obviously you could work in the financial sector or perhaps as an international arms dealer selling guns to countries that give them to small children so they can blow each other’s heads off, but those and a million or so other equally immoral occupations aside could there be any more morally corrupt job than chugging for a living? No? Didn’t think so.

Of course, charity is a wonderful thing and we should all do more of it, but there is, to my mind, something inherently wrong with the idea of charity as a ‘growth industry’. The real obscenity, of course, is actually not the spotty little whelps like Justin at the bottom of the dung heap, but the HUGE earners sitting at the top of the pile living on caviar and honey while exploiting and stealing from the impoverished, weak and disenfranchised they claim to represent. But then I can sort of understand that (not agree with it, but understand it), because if you haven’t got any sort of moral conscience and you’re willing to sell your soul to the devil it makes bloody good sense to at least get a decent price for it rather than a measly couple of pints on a Friday night or a few quid to reimburse your hard done by parents, doesn’t it?

And if you can’t manage that then I guess the role of ‘team-leader’, with a sharp suit and a cut from everything that spotty little whelps like Justin bring in before it’s passed on up to the next person in the pyramid shaped chain of professional skim artists, at least has the veneer of a ‘middle-management’ career to justify it?
 
I had a thought that I might start a campaign to try to put a stop to door-to-door (and even high street/shopping mall) chugging – a series of petitions, perhaps, or online protest campaigns to tell charities that use Chuggers for fundraising that we [WE?] don’t like it,  and perhaps even something in the way of direct action like Boycotts on donations. But then I realised that something like that, if it got off the ground, would probably incur overheads, and I haven’t got money to pour into something like that no matter how strongly I might feel about it.
 
And then I had an idea...

I’ll probably be collecting in your area sometime soon. You’ll know it’s totally bona fide (Bona Fodo, as Victoria Wood might say) because I’ll have my official badge on saying ‘CACK’ (Campaign Against Chugging in Kent). Please give generously. Just like your neighbours have...

And if it turns out not to be me knocking your door, if it’s just Jehovah’s Witnesses or whatever local flavour of happy clappers your area tends to attract, be nice to them, because no matter how annoying they might be or how busy you might be they at least believe in what they’re doing, which is more than can be said for Justin and his mates. Probably.

IN OTHER NEWS: Once the chuggers departed the train (in Orpington – so if you live in that neck of the woods don’t open the door to unexpected callers, just empty the po over their heads from an upstairs window) I took off my headphones (that’s how loud these people were – I could hear their improv session over my MP3 player) and relaxed with my book. A couple of pages in a realised something that, as an aspiring writer, seemed very relevant: TRAINS NO LONGER GO TICKETY-POOM, TICKETY-POOM, TICKETY-POOM, TICKETY-POOM :- O

As someone who can just about remember from toddlerhood that the last scheduled steam train running to Hastings went Chhhhhhh-de-Cooff, Chhhhh-de-Cooff, Chhhhh-de-Cooff, Chhhhhh-de-Cooff this was something of a double whammy. I don’t know how you could transcribe the horrible new train sound, which is very much like the low drone/rumble you hear on an aeroplane, but even if I did I don’t think I’d bother. It’s rubbish, as Marvin the paranoid android might say. I would instead fill the fictional journey-time with the relentless ‘tish-tish-tish-tish’ of an overly loud pair of headphones two seats away interspersed with the occasional tweeps, rings, toots and jingles of mobile phones, the shouted conversations that follow those tweeps, rings, toots and jingles, and the accompanying ‘disgusted of Tunbridge Wells’ tuts of other commuters seemingly incensed by them.

IN OTHER OTHER NEWS: Moonfruit have just introduced a new feature which displays your website as it would appear on a mobile phone. As I don't own a mobile phone - well not one that does 't'internet  (it's a long story) - I never realised until today that my website is pug-fuggly when viewed via new tech like that. For anyone who's visited it via mobile, sorry. I feel a redesign is probably in order sometime soon. For those who visited and thought it pug-fuggly regardless of viewing platform, you may well have a point, but Ben and I kind of liked it.