“Hey disabled people! We know we’ve kicked away your crutches and white canes, smashed up your wheelchairs and hearing aids, and would have shot your guide dogs were it not for the fact that a charity provides them. We know our austerity policies led no less than the UN to issue a report accusing us of the ‘systematic violation’ of disabled people’s rights.

“But we’re going to put it right. We’re launching… could someone see if there’s a set of drums knocking about please? No? Oh well. This is so super it shouldn’t need them. We’re launching a ‘Regional Stakeholder Network’.

And we want you to join it. Applications to either chair or be a member of the nine of them – there’s going to be one for each English region – have been put up on the government’s website by our Office for Disability Issues.

“What we’re after is super people with lots of different disabilities who are united by their desire to make a difference. You’ll talk about what the government does, and how it could work better for disabled people, and you’ll feed back to the Office with the aim of getting the government to think about disability in its work.

“We’ll give you a nice little theme to talk about every three months and there’ll even be a Ministerial Advisory Group for you to attend. If you’re really lucky, Sarah Newton, the minister for disabled people, might find a window in her diary to thank you for your interest.

Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Show all 8 1 /8 Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos William Large was admitted in 1888, aged around seven and a half. His mother had died of tuberculosis the previous year, and his father was sent to the workhouse. According to records, the father’s ‘carelessness and cruelty to the child have caused the hip disease with which the little one is afflicted’. William was also deaf and had tuberculosis. He was trained within the print school at Stepney, and was able to secure employment as a printer in 1899 Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Fred Forty was born in 1875 in Cheltenham, into a ‘wretched home’. His mother died of tuberculosis, and his father, a shoemaker, was described as ‘drunken and totally unconcerned with his six children’. Fred had at least two operations on his cleft palate which were unsuccessful, and had only one eye as a result of an accident. He was admitted in 1888, aged 13. Fred died in 1895 and is buried at Tower Hamlets cemetery Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Kate McLoughlin was born in 1882 in Nottingham, and was admitted to Barnardo’s at the age of seven by the local vicar. Her father had been in prison several times, and was in jail at the time. The family of five lived in one room which the local vicar described as, ‘the most utter squalor and filth’. It was ‘the very worst home’ he knew in his parish. Kate’s mother battled alcoholism, and while she was out drinking, her first child drowned in a bucket of water, and another was seriously burnt. When Kate was just a baby, she fell out of her mother’s arms, and subsequently suffered hip disease and deformity. After care and training in the homes, she went into domestic service in 1905 Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Alfred Smith was born in 1875 in the town of Rugeley, Staffordshire. His father died of diabetes nine years later, leaving seven children. His mother was unable to work due to abscesses on her legs, and was receiving parish relief. Alfred had his right leg amputated when he was just 13. Two years later, he was admitted to the homes, and received an apprenticeship in the Tailors workshop. In 1895, he was working as a tailor in Surrey Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Thomas Marks was born in Rhymney, Caerphilly, in 1885. He was orphaned at a young age when both parents died as a result of heavy drinking. When Thomas was just eight, he ‘had both his legs cut off from the trunk by an engine running over him’. Despite this, he managed to scrape a living on the street as a pickpocket until he was admitted to Barnardo’s at the age of 15. He was given an apprenticeship in the tailoring workshop and subsequently found employment as a tailor on leaving the homes. By 1899 he had his own business in Wales Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Herbert Harris was admitted in March 1892 aged 18. His father died from tuberculosis three months after Herbert was born and his mother remarried a porter who worked at the Millwall Dock Company. Herbert was working at paper mills in Millwall when both his hands were drawn into some machinery. He spent three months in hospital where his arms needed to be amputated – one above, the other below the elbow. His mother received £50 from Herbert’s employer which was used to stock her shop. The admission report says that it appears that none of the money was spent on behalf of the boy, apart from buying a barrow for him on which he might sell fruit. Herbert’s aunt claimed his mother and her husband brutally ill-treated him, that the husband had severely beat both Herbert and his mother. And in his admissions report, was described as, ‘civil-mannered’ and ‘in great fear of his mother and her husband’. Herbert died in August 1896 and is buried in Tower Hamlets cemetery Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Elizabeth Lines was born in 1884 in Deptford, London. Her father died of tuberculosis three years later. A fall during infancy is believed to have caused abscesses on her knee-joint, which made it necessary to amputate her leg when she was just 19 months old. She was admitted aged eight, and received training which helped her secure work as a dressmaker in Port Talbot by 1905 Barnardo’s Disability History Month: Barnardo’s unseen 125-year-old photos Alfred Collings was born in November 1895 in Plymouth and admitted in January 1905 aged nine. His father died from pleurisy and pneumonia in 1901, with his mother receiving £10 insurance money. Soon after the death Alfred suffered a fall which led to the bone in his foot becoming diseased. Unfortunately the problem wasn’t identified or treated for a long time and eventually the parish doctor ordered him to the infirmary, where his foot was amputated. The admission report says: ‘Alfred is of a specially bright, lively and mischievous disposition and has been petted and spoilt by the men in the infirmary. He was perpetually playing pranks’ Barnardo’s

“What’s that? You want to know how much this pays? Sorry bud, we’re not paying a bunch of cripples. Oh, I see, the PIP people have taken your transport away. Well, how about we throw in some travel exes? Sound good?”

Pardon me for saying so, but no one who takes the interests of Britain’s disabled people remotely seriously should have any truck with this exercise. The only sensible response is to boycott it.

Does that sound harsh? Would it not be better to say something like, well, at least they’re making an effort and it’s good to talk?

Sorry, no dice. Or should I say no deal, because that’s what the government of Theresa May is shaping up to kick us with next.

I genuinely looked at the proposal, when it was forwarded to me by a friend with disabilities who works in the sector, with an open mind.

Not that I don’t love my job with The Independent, but I even toyed with the idea of chucking in a CV. Having pitched up at Earl’s Court’s step-free tube station only to find that it wasn’t, in fact, step-free at all, with those needing the bust lift to get off the westbound platform advised to head on out to Hammersmith and then take a train back in the opposite direction, it was only too clear to me that disabled people need to have more of an input into policymaking.

The problem is the lack of pay. And it is a big problem. As Sue Bott, from Disability Rights UK, said to me, it’s hard to take the government’s stated aim of reducing the disability employment gap seriously when it expects us to work for nothing on government projects.

Reading the description of the role of chair, I saw a full-time job if it were to be done properly, one involving reading, and meetings, and liaising, and running – or rather, in my case, wheeling – around like a blue arsed fly. Bzzzzz.

It could, said my friend, very easily “just suck all the time you have away from you”.

How many disabled people would have that sort of time? Certainly not those in full-time employment (like me) or those desperately banging on doors in an attempt to secure it.

Woman confronts Theresa May over disability payment cuts

So, while I could be proved wrong, I imagine the pool of candidates will be quite limited, perhaps to those in retirement, or those in self-employment capable of scoring high quality amphetamines.

This is a government spending billions preparing for an ideologically driven no-deal Brexit that many ministers have publicly admitted will be disastrous for the nation. Yet it can’t find a few hundred grand for the combined cost of nine salaries, and perhaps some stipends to compensate panel members for their time.

In refusing to offer anything at all, in refusing to make at least the panel chairs full time, with full-time civil service salaries, the government is sending out the clear message that it doesn’t really value disabled people or their input.

Were these panels to incur meaningful expenditure you can bet someone would be motivated to ensure the taxpayer was getting their money’s worth from them. OK, OK, perhaps I’m being a bit optimistic there given the way ministers like to waste money. But you get my drift: work that doesn’t cost anything just isn’t valued by government in the same way as work that it pays for.

The lack of investment in paying the people working on these issues strengthens the impression that these panels are being set up not so much even as talking shops but as PR sops that can be used at ministerial questions to counter criticism of Britain’s shameful neglect of its disabled citizens. Or that can be thrown back at the UN the next time it comes to do a report on how the UK is failing to live up to the Convention on the Rights of Disabled People that it signed up to.

Disabled people who apply should therefore be aware that they are running the risk of their good intentions and hard work being cynically exploited.

Yes it’s good to talk, and disabled people certainly need to have a louder voice in public affairs.