Posted on November 3, 2025

Who declared open season on disabled people? Because, honestly, that’s what it feels like right now.

The government’s latest proposals to “reform” the Motability Scheme — and the toxic, resentful language being thrown around by politicians of all stripes — feel less like sensible policymaking and more like a targeted, personal attack. Unsurprisingly, this has had immediate real-world consequences. The level of abuse I’ve received both online and in public lately has shot through the roof, courtesy of a few bigoted, uneducated individuals who now feel emboldened to shout their opinions in car parks and comment sections alike.

Apparently, being disabled has become fair game. Lovely.

The New Villains: Disabled People with Suitable Cars

If you’ve missed the news, the government is planning to tighten eligibility for the Motability Scheme and remove certain “luxury” vehicles from availability. The unspoken reasoning? Disabled people are apparently having too much fun driving around in cars that aren’t basic, beige, or held together with prayer.

We are told this is about “fairness for taxpayers.” Ah yes, the taxpayers — that imaginary club we disabled folk supposedly don’t belong to. This is despite the small detail of paying tax every time we work, shop, or so much as fill up the car we’re being shamed for driving.

The rhetoric paints Personal Independence Payment (PIP) claimants as benefit scroungers who should be grateful for the most basic models — because heaven forbid a disabled person might want a car that actually accommodates their family, necessary equipment, and dignity.

Here’s the plain truth: these vehicles are not a freebie. Anything beyond the most basic model requires a substantial upfront payment (a non-refundable deposit). The more suitable the vehicle — a larger boot, an automatic gearbox, higher seat height — the more money you need to hand over. Your monthly PIP mobility component then covers the lease. It’s not a golden ticket; it’s a significant financial decision, and often the only viable way people can access a reliable, adapted car to live, work, and participate in society.

The Necessity of Size, Not Show

Take my own situation. I need a car that can carry a family of five, a pushchair, and a wheelchair as a bare minimum. Shock horror — disabled people have families, children, appointments, and lifestyles that do not fit neatly into the back of a city hatchback.

And yet, politicians — across the political spectrum, mind you — have stood at podiums, smirking as they suggest that people like me shouldn’t be able to access certain cars on the scheme because “it’s not fair on taxpayers.”

This entire narrative hinges on the lie that we are not contributors. News flash: disabled people pay tax too. I work and claim PIP. I pay tax on my earnings and my Army pension, which places me in a higher tax bracket. I also pay VAT on just about every purchase, and fuel tax every time I fill up. So please, spare me the “hard-working taxpayer” sob story. We are paying into the exact same system.

The Real Cost of Political Rhetoric

Here is where the issue darkens beyond sarcastic British humour.

The way politicians are talking about disabled people has tangible, dangerous consequences. The words they use — “scroungers,” “luxury,” “entitlement,” “reform” — filter down, shaping public perception and giving permission for casual cruelty.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve seen comments like:

“Why do they get BMWs when I can’t afford one?”

“If they can drive, they’re not really disabled.”

That is the language of resentment, fuelled directly by MPs who have decided that balancing the books means turning disabled people into convenient, easy-to-target villains. It is political theatre that plays well on talk radio and tabloid headlines, but it ruins lives in the real world.

Mobility Scheme: A Lifeboat, Not a Golden Ticket

Now, you might be thinking, “But you don’t even have a Motability vehicle, do you?” And you’d be right.

Despite being eligible, I opted out. This isn’t because I reject the scheme, but because, for my specific needs, it made no financial sense. I did the maths. Given my annual mileage (10,000 to 11,500 miles), I was better off buying a used car. With breakdown cover through my bank, mechanical help from a family garage, and low road tax, I pay less than the equivalent vehicle on the Motability Scheme would have cost me.

However, my fortunate circumstance does not diminish the fact that for many others, the scheme is the only accessible route to a safe, reliable car. They should not be shamed for utilising a system designed precisely to give them independence.

This proposed “reform” is not about closing loopholes; it is about further shrinking a vital lifeline and using it as a prop for political performance. They call it reform. We call it punishment. And while they’re busy counting votes, we’re counting the new dents in our confidence every time someone sneers at us for parking in a Blue Badge bay or driving a car that’s “too nice.”

A Stark Warning

Here’s the truth: I was once perfectly healthy and physically fit. That all changed in the blink of an eye — one moment I was fine, the next my body had other plans — and my world was turned upside down. I was left disabled and suddenly needing extra help and support.

It can happen to anyone. You, your partner, your best mate, your child. One accident, one illness, one cruel twist of fate — and you could find yourself navigating the very system that politicians are so casually dismantling.

So, be very careful about who you let target disabled people, and what you let them take away in your name. Because when they’re done with us, they will inevitably come for someone you love next.