In A Place of Fear

The Biggest Risk To the NHS is Doing Nothing.
Thus spake David Cameron, today, in another of his Carrollian Utterances that make the Receiver think he or she has just opened an Especially Poor Novelty Audio Greetings Card. 'We need a Big Society, not Big Government', 'You are an Analogue Politician in a Digital World', 'You Have to do a Bit of Bopping from time to time.' (Yes, honestly.) There is a huge gap in the market for greetings cards for Folk You Don't Think Much Of, now that Purple Ronnie is harder to come by. Self- Dispensing Drugs Trolleys- they would be Quite a Big Risk to the NHS, i imagine. Um, i know, what about No Trained Nurses and only A Man qualified in First Aid and a Vet arguing over who was highest ranked, as Really Truly Happened at Penrhos Sports Day last Year: that would mean the NHS was Quite At Risk. Oh, and what about one of those Zombie Viruses? You know that start off taking out all the minor league characters and then move on to actors you once saw in Harbour Lights, until only Ewan McGregor stands between Mankind and having to pay to keep babies on incubators alive by remortgaging your house and bankrupting your family until the End Of Time.
What i have Obviously missed, by listening to Radio 1 Extra for a fortnight (Big Up Twin B) is Ed Miliband's new policy 'How we will solve the problems of the NHS by doing nothing.' Perhaps he had a little pre-policy joke on, by Not Making a speech. Or perhaps no one has suggested Anything of the Kind, and this is another of those Distraction Techniques the Tories like so much- 'Under this Government, No World War.' 'Say Goodbye to Tiger Cross-Dressing now Dave's in charge.'
So, there isn't enough money to do all the things we would like our medical service to do. Let's Tax for More then. And let's spend less on Management, and on Celebrity Chefs to tell us that patients will Get Better Faster if they eat less Jelly and More Apples. Lets lay off that Think Tank we are presumably funding in Southampton Uni to tell us that sometimes dirt is germy, and just wash the walls in ICU a bit more often. Let's see what Claire Raynor said we should do, and do that. Naive, Socialist Top-of the-Head Toss-Offs? Course. But still better than the Current Proposal- hand over the cash to our GPs and let them decide who gets it done in Shrewsbury General, and who gets Flown to Florida for the Weekend. My brother once arrived at his mate's house to find our local doctor making a hat out of a fox. He did live there, he was the mate's dad. bet this doesn't make you want him to decide if how much Chemo he can afford to send you for though, does it? Time to take up golf and start losing to your local Practice Manager in case that dicky hip needs replacing.
Right, sponge down the focus groups, Now is the Time for Action, Not Reaction (paraphrasing, Dave). Rebranding is Imperative. We can't call it the NHS any more, clearly, as it won't be National, or a Service, and using the word health might make people think they are sick, in the way that mentioning homosexuality to children makes them um, no i must have got that wrong somehow. Just referring to it as a Total Fuck Up has a certain pithy ring to though, admittedly it might get depressing quite fast, a bit like not having drugs to control your MS, because Dr Badger-Scarf has spent all his pennies on Third Class Relics. So i propose Fiasco, it has a Comedy Carry-On air to it, that will be more than welcome when you're sat on a trolley in the corridor trying to remove your own spleen - the Logo can be a Picture of Nye Bevan pushing Andrew Lansley into his recently vacated grave.
Protest. Write Letters. Send E-Mails. Phone your MPs office- the Biggest Risk to the NHS is Doing Nothing: you know it's True, David Cameron Said So.

The Spokesperson's Spokesperson: A Statement.

 i am Deeply Saddened to hear of the resignation of Downing Street's director of Communications, Andy Coulson. The news was broken to me in a Completely Private Conversation with David Cameron, in which he disclosed that Andy would still have his job helping him Fuck the Country Over and then Lie about it, were it not for the Insidious Persistence of the Press in Pointing Out that he is a Duplicitous Bastard. At this Sad Time, and now Cruelly Deprived of the Almost Certain Serialisation Rights and Subsequent Media Exposure i and my family so Clearly deserve, i have no choice but to release the Transcripts of my own Mobile Phone Calls myself.
Here then, are The Frank Tapes.

Dad: Hello It's only me.
Me: Yes.
Dad: Did you find out what wattage of shower Ian wired for?
Me: He couldn't remember.
Dad: Oh Ok. Bye.

Dad: Hello, it's only me.
Me: Yes.
Dad: i haven't fetched that Loft Insulation yet.
Me: ok.
Dad: You alright?
Me: Yes thanks. did you get that haircut?
Dad: Not yet. Ok then, bye.

Dad: (in the distance): Sylvia! Sylvia? (swearing) Rustle, rustle, thunk. (More swearing).
Me: Dad?
Dad: Sylvia? Where's my Car Keys?
Me : Dad! You've phoned me with your pocket again dad. DAD!

Sadly, the Landline remained clean. The Follow-Up Recording: Is This The Right Number For Welshpool Football Club? No? Are You Sure? is therefore, Tragically, Lost Forever.

Sink Britain.

Breaking news: Poorest Families' Standard of Living will continue to fail. It's Almost Unbelievable. How on earth could this have happened? David Cameron must be sitting in his Bentley, slowly crushing and re-shaping his Top Hat Collection in bewilderment, as we speak. (Clegg is Under the car. There is no Inspection Pit, no). Food and Non-Alcoholic Drinks costs up 6.1% and Vegetables by 8%. Still, there's always Fags- you can Smoke Mail Bags rolled up in Despair, right? And Alcohol. Oh, apparently Booze is Gone too. It's not aimed at the Poor, obviously, that Snakebite Sub-Clause is coincidence. Unfair to blame Cameron directly, though. In all probability he knew nothing of this 'Inflation'. It's Almost Certainly the work of  a Rogue Minister, operating Entirely Independently of the Entire Coalition government, without their Knowledge or Suspicion, even when it is Discussed Publicly, and Carried Out Right Under their Noses and the Results are then put on the Front pages of the Press- Quite Clearly an Entirely Private Matter. Let's hope the Scapegoat knows who he is Before he's Arrested this time.
At least Dave Definitely knows he's Passed the Buck on the NHS, as it turns out he HAS to fuck it up, because Gordon wouldn't let Tony Fuck it up ten years ago. The Corridors of the Country's Non- Private Hospitals running with blood can double-up as Real Life(and Death) Installations now the Arts are Screwed: it'll raise morale in  Waiting Rooms as you choke out your last breaths only to hear it played back on a loop as a Soundscape. God help you if you're elderly, your best option is to join the House of Lords and insist on Thoroughly Debating all the Bills overnight when, coincidentally,it's really, really cold out in the Real World. In fact it turns out that the new Lowest level of Society consists, pretty much, of  Any One who hasn't been asked to ready a  New Blouse and Generations of Forelock for the Royal To-Do .
Nothing left for it but to introduce some really Innovative legislation: we're going to need a Great Big New Airport somewhere Southern, and a ton of Inflatable Dinghies. And this time, burn all the records, so the Aussies can't send any one back.

Now?

i do hope they Postpone the Apocalypse, because Powys County Council will almost certainly Panic. There's Enough To-Do with the Timetabling of the Swimming Pool at the Flash Leisure Centre: 'How many Seals? And they all Open in Succession? and What Flies Out? Dave, will we need a Music License for Angels with Trumpets?' Even if there is a man in the Oak who knows a man who can get Alexander a Really Big Iron Gate, there's no telling when they'll make the decision to put it up. 'Are we talking Gog and Magog, or just Gog?' They'll probably need to send out for a man from Wrexham to dig the hole, and a team from Wolverhampton to fill it, and that's without Community Centre Committee being recalled to sit on Appropriate Signage. English, Hebrew and Welsh. The County Times Letters Page can expect to be inundated: Sir, I am writing to draw your attention to the Unacceptable Levels of Horse Excrement to be seen on the Roads adjacent to the Vicinity of the Hitherto Delightful Environs of the Village of Trewern, following the Surprise Arrival of Four Huge, Scandalously- Coloured Beasts of Unknown Origin...demanded his Particulars...what sort of a name is Pestilence- probably a Yow-Yow...writing to my MP'.  Come Judgement Day, and by using and projecting, O, for NO REASON, the Advent of Two Centimetres of Forecast Snow, what will probably happen is this: 'Right, now, is that Ragnarok, over there, or just a bit of a Godly Tiff?' 'No idea, I mean, they look a bit Tetchy- is that Freya with her hands on her hips?' 'You're right, mind, have you ever tried getting a Cat to pull a Chariot?' 'Are we shutting the School then? Threat of Flooding and/or Hellfire et cetera?' 'Um.. Not Sure- I think they're stopping, look Loki's having a little rest- oh, no, what's He doing? Another horse, Eight Legs? pass me the address of the County Times, this'll be trouble.' 'I'll put Open on the End of the World Website, then.' 'Ah. Fighting again. No, it's Definitely Doom.' 'I can't change it now, they're all arriving. The parents won't be happy if we haven't Foretold The End of the World and they all have to come back from work.' 'Let's fudge it and warn them we'll definitely stay open until Dinner Time . And keep an eye on that Tree.'

wall-to-wall

It is a sad fact that above a certain level of income that it becomes difficult to disentangle Need from Want. Well, not that hard, actually, unless you spend all your time reading Hello and weeping because now Katona is off the Happy Powder AGAIN they should really have her back behind that Iceland Prawn Ring where she belongs . Here's one for inclusion in the Rewriting of a Bill of Rights: carpets. Let's add carpets to Our List of things we write on our placards or e-mail to our Mps or just Weep Over as we watch Rolling News and reflect on how Shit it all is. Because, apparently, below a certain income, a covering over concrete is one of those things you can do without. Like Coats, and Cookers, and a Standard of Living that allows a Scrap of Dignity. A State-Funded Beanfest for the Dynastically Inbred, or the means to provide cooked food for families in Emergency Housing? Shall we Toss a Commemorative Coin?
It's the All-Round Joined Up Thinking, i admire: cut jobs, so there are more unemployed; cut benefits for these people so that they find themselves on even lower incomes; cut funding to relief organizations so there is less emergency assistance; raise rents so more people are made homeless; hike up VAT so the safety net that remains has great big holes in it; and divvy up the NHS in a Piecemeal and Random fashion so that when every one in the Shanty Towns gets sick no one at the sharp end knows what they're doing or how to pay for it.
Did i miss anything out? Probably. Since its inception this Government has been frantically hurling policies off the Top of Its Ivory Tower while the Electorate affected cowers below with only Ed Miliband and his rhetorical pea-shooter for protection. Is there some one in the Coalition whose Actual Designated Post it is to stand over ideas like this, whacking Common Sense and Decency into the stratosphere with a Polo Mallet? Is it George Osborne? It's Time For Action. Fetch me a Sleeping Bag, a flask of Hot Squash and Annie Lennox's Union Jack Dress (i want to blend in). i have had an idea of where i can come by some carpet.