Curate's Egg With An Off Yolk.
Went off to visit an elderly lady and old friend in Hospital yesterday evening. I have a very significant and personal acquaintanceship with the NHS dating back through 1999 to last year, when a battle was seemed to have been won for my nearest and very dearest. Yesterday's visit was an uncomfortable one but to see the look of joy on our friend's face made the long journey very worthwhile. What may well become known as a "Chilean" moment!
However, I found the massive central complex a monument to Governments' abuse of power and ignorance of reality. Car parking was an expensive joke, staffed with casual and indifferent jobsworths. The shiny corridors belied a unit and an organisation that has lost its way. A factory line manned by robots who, if they cared when they signed up, have been subsumed into the target, production line mentality, so favoured by bureaucrats and Labour. Of course the swamping of our schools, hospitals and police services was an unspoken but inevitable consequence of mass immigration and pandering to minorities at the expense of the majority.
Now, nearby is a fantastic local, very small hospital. People know each other and the patients are often a friend or acquaintance, or friend of a friend, sometimes a relative of the staff. Even if not, their reception and treatment is more likely to be warm and friendly, caring and personal.
That just cannot happen in a gargantuan edifice headed by a millionaire CEO and other wealthy, publicly remunerated, political sycophants. Their job and lifestyle demand allegiance to their political masters, before any desire to do a good job. Often they are career "administrators" or political placements. Such individuals carry an antipathy towards their professional staff born of a justifiable professional inferiority. I appreciate a medical and financial necessity for specialist centers, staffed by experts in their chosen discipline. I don't accept the creation of out of town supermarkets for nursing and medical treatment. They become, just like supermarkets, an open prison for a captive audience of mindless and manipulated masses. A herd blinded by the science of persuasion and too timid to fight back. An example from last evening. Hospedia. Some faceless rip off company with supermarket, glossy pamphlets and shiny, flat screen TVs and integrated phones. They weren't working. Thus many elderly, frail and immobile patients were forced to stare at the ceiling, often in pain and very lonely. Contact this supplier then, you might say. Couldn't be done. Their shiny cash point machine, charging exorbitant prices was bust. A kaleidoscope box, painted in the psychedelic colours of a Tesco like display bin, glared brightly and expensively from a wall. A huge machine typifying the modern, Labour NHS. Looks almost wonderful and special. Offers so much to the poor patient, at a price, yet was utterly useless. We left our friend staring at the wall for a further many hours of abject unhappiness as a cacophony of unanswered call buzzers continued their relentless quest for humanity in the midst of an empty and soulless supermarket corridor. Don't get old in Labours' Britain. It will be Labours' legacy forever.