Cosmetic Jabs and Political Fads

There’s a saying in politics: if it sounds too simple, it probably is. But don’t tell that to Wes Streeting, the Labour health secretary, who seems convinced that Britain’s twin crises of obesity and unemployment can be solved with a syringe. Yes, apparently all it takes to get the so-called “fat and feckless” back into work is a jab of semaglutide—a miracle drug that melts the pounds away and, as far as Streeting’s concerned, makes people more employable in the process.

It’s a plan so beautifully simplistic, you almost have to admire it. Why tackle complex issues like poverty, mental health, or the complete collapse of Britain’s low-wage economy when you can just inject the unemployed, slim them down, and ship them off to work? Next, no doubt, we’ll be trialling Botox to fix Britain’s productivity crisis—because everyone knows the real problem with the job market is that people just don’t look energetic enough.

But while the idea of jabbing the jobless into action might make for a neat headline, it ignores one critical factor: the human brain. Because here’s the rub—being overweight might be a problem for some, but the real reason a lot of people aren’t working is because their minds are in worse shape than their waistlines. And no amount of semaglutide is going to fix that.

Jabs for Jobs: A Needle in the Wrong Haystack

Streeting’s weight-loss scheme, while politically shiny, is more misguided than Boris Johnson at a press conference. Faced with millions of people out of work, Streeting has latched onto a single, seductive idea: the overweight, the chronically ill, the so-called work-shy can be jabbed into becoming fit, slim, and employable. Because apparently, in Wes’s world, the only thing standing between the jobless and a thriving career is a waistline that’s outstayed its welcome.

If only it were that simple. Britain’s unemployment crisis isn’t about the circumference of the nation’s waistbands—it’s about the shortage of decent, well-paying jobs and the complete lack of support for those who are struggling mentally as much as physically. You can’t inject someone out of depression, just as you can’t magically boost their confidence with a needle in the arm (unless, of course, Streeting’s next plan involves filling syringes with self-esteem and hope).

And yet, for the naïve politician, a syringe offers a tempting solution to every societal ill. It’s quick. It’s tangible. It looks proactive. It saves them from the far trickier task of tackling root causes like intergenerational poverty, poor education, and—most crucially—mental health. Because, while Streeting dreams of a workforce slimmed down and job-ready, the reality is that mental illness, not just weight, is a massive barrier to employment. If someone can’t get out of bed because of crippling anxiety or depression, no amount of weight loss is going to suddenly make them enthusiastic about applying for a zero-hours contract at Amazon.

Mental Health: The Elephant in the Room (Not the Waistline)

In the rush to jab Britain’s unemployed, Streeting seems to have forgotten that the real epidemic in the UK isn’t just obesity—it’s mental health. In fact, the two often go hand in hand. Many people overeat because they’re depressed, anxious, or stressed out of their minds, trapped in a cycle of comfort food, poverty, and hopelessness. If your life consists of endless job rejections, a crumbling welfare system, and the joyless prospect of stacking shelves for minimum wage, an extra packet of Hobnobs is probably the only thing getting you through the day.

But the government isn’t lining up jabs for mental health anytime soon. Despite the fact that millions of people are struggling with anxiety, depression, and a cocktail of other psychological woes, politicians like Streeting are more interested in cosmetic solutions. Slim them down, he thinks, and the rest will take care of itself. Who needs a decent therapist when you’ve got semaglutide? Who needs antidepressants when you’ve got a smaller dress size?

It’s like sending someone to a spa for a haircut and hoping it’ll fix their broken leg. Sure, they’ll look better when they come out, but their actual problems will still be hobbling them all the way home. The truth is, unless Streeting plans to start injecting optimism, motivation, and a general will to live, these weight-loss jabs aren’t going to get anyone out of bed, let alone into work.

Botox for the Brain? A Simpler Solution

And here’s where the naïveté of politicians really shines through. Streeting, like many before him, has fallen for the classic political pitfall: the quick fix. Why tackle the real issue—poor mental health—when you can dream up a magical solution involving a syringe? Today it’s semaglutide; tomorrow it’ll be brain surgery to remove “bad attitudes.” Just imagine the headlines: “NHS Rolls Out New ‘Ambition Jab’ to Fix Britain’s Work-Shy.” One quick injection, and suddenly the long-term unemployed are bursting with entrepreneurial zeal, signing up for unpaid internships and minimum-wage gigs with a spring in their step.

It sounds ridiculous, but no more so than this latest cosmetic attempt at tackling unemployment. Weight loss might make someone healthier, but it won’t make them aspirational. It won’t suddenly wipe away years of economic instability, broken communities, and personal trauma. Most importantly, it won’t fix the mind, which is often where the real battle lies.

And let’s not forget the very MPs pushing this idea. Some of Westminster’s finest could do with a jab or two—though perhaps not for weight loss. A quick syringe of empathy, critical thinking, or a basic grasp of reality might work wonders on the productivity of our elected officials. Maybe inject them with the ability to craft policies that don’t rely on gimmicks and short-term solutions. Or how about a “compassion boost”? After all, when you’ve spent your career on an MP’s salary, it’s easy to lose touch with what it’s really like to struggle at the bottom.

The Feckless and the Frazzled: A Mental Health Crisis Overlooked

Streeting’s plan also ignores the fact that many of the people he’s targeting are stuck in a welfare system that is as mentally draining as it is financially insufficient. Navigating the benefits system is a full-time job in itself—endless paperwork, humiliating assessments, and the constant threat of sanctions for missing appointments. The sheer stress of it all is enough to push anyone into a spiral of anxiety.

So, while Streeting fantasises about shrinking waistlines, perhaps he should focus on shrinking the mental health crisis instead. The NHS is drowning in mental health cases, with therapy waiting lists stretching into the abyss and GPs handing out antidepressants like sweets at a Halloween party. A jab won’t fix that.

And for many, the so-called "comfort" of the benefits system isn’t just about dodging work—it’s about survival. When the job market is a nightmare of zero-hours contracts and low wages, why on earth would someone leave the relative stability of benefits to plunge into the gig economy? For those struggling with mental health, the benefits system, dysfunctional as it is, offers a lifeline. Taking that away, without addressing the psychological toll of modern life, would leave many teetering on the edge.

Injecting the Wrong Solution

The reality is that Streeting’s cosmetic plan, while politically expedient, offers nothing more than a needle-thin solution to a supersized problem. It’s not just obesity that’s weighing down Britain—it’s mental health, poverty, and a lack of real opportunities. If Streeting really wants to get the “fat and feckless” back to work, he’ll need more than weight-loss jabs—he’ll need a complete overhaul of how we think about work, welfare, and mental well-being.

Until then, Streeting’s jab-for-jobs scheme will remain exactly what it is: a glossy, superficial fix to a complex issue. You can’t inject aspiration. You can’t jab away hopelessness. And you certainly can’t solve a mental health crisis with semaglutide. But hey, if anyone in Westminster is interested, I hear Botox does wonders for frown lines. Maybe that’s next on the agenda.