Battle hymns to scream when going to war with Centrelink

1. Black Flag- 'Rise Above'

So you've just applied for some form of government assistance, you've heard that Centrelink is a shitstorm. When I applied, I was told "don't ask them what you can get, tell them what you need". When filing an application you tell yourself that you won't be dragged down to the level of the narrow-minded pen pushers and snivelling bureacrats, just like Greg Ginn and co did on the first track of their first full-length, Damaged. Henry Rollins tearing out his throat to convey a sermon of turning the other cheek, determination and mental strength is as pertinent today applied to the context of dealing with a government organisation as it was in '81 when LA punks were victimised by the city's police. For those who demand a bit more flavour from their war chants, Rollins re-recorded the song with the help of Public Enemy's Chuck D.

2. Agoraphobic Nosebleed- 'Die and Get the Fuck Out of the Way'

Like a sleazy lothario, Centrelink hasn't called long after it promised it would. You're acutely pissed off, then you call them and that's when you really start to understand what all your friends warned you about. When you call, you get put on hold. And left on hold. When you finally talk to someone, they transfer you. You get put on hold again. When you talk to someone who knows anything about your case, they inform you that someone has forgotten to get you to fill out a form or hand in a document. Because you need to understand, dealing with Centrelink employees isn't the same as dealing with regular humans. And this means that their failure to do so will force you to return to a Centrelink office.

3. Slayer- 'Raining Blood"




Slayer's 1986 classic pumps through the veins of every disgruntled person that enters a Centrelink office, even if those people have never heard the song. Entering with a maniac bloodlust and a desire to splash internal organs over the beige walls and cheap carpet, the applicant is forced to take a seat, only then do they realise they're "Trapped in purgatory/A lifeless object, alive". As the uncomfortable chair you're sitting in kneeds your buttocks and contorts your spine, you begin to grow engrossed in the soap operas on a nearby television set, only to realise that "Awaiting the hour of reprisal/Your time slips away".

Though from the weeks and months of agitation, annoyance and encounters with arseholes, your plight is recognised and Centrelink begin to deposit money into a bank account for you. Although there's an ever-present fear that the slightest change in your situation could start the entire process again, you form an uneasy truce with Centrelink, because you're paid in full.