Jaw. Slack.

30 January, 2012 (19:55) | All articles | By: Stuart Fraser

I’m slack-jawed with amazement at the number of times I find myself slack-jawed with amazement.

The other day a horse rider, upset because my dog’s barking startled her nag when she rode it past our home, told me I should try a shock collar on my mutt. In other words, I should deliver electric shocks to my dog, securely fenced and supervised in her own garden, to enable a horse-rider to pointlessly ride her pointless scared animal past my home without the inconvenience of having to go to the trouble of learning how to control the damned thing. “Torture your animal so I can indulge mine.”

The previous Saturday, channel hopping, we came across the Jonathan Ross show on ITV. Now, you’ll guess where I stand on the debate of “Ross: loveable wascal or complete rancour”, and normally I would sooner eat my own elbows than watch ITV for so much as a split nano-second, but on the sofa was David Attenborough, so we watched for a while as Ross questioned him on the subjects of the natural world, global warming, etc.

Then, Ross announced he had two little guests he’d like Attenborough to meet, and two adorable penguins were ushered onto stage.

Ross went through the motions of comedy herding, comedy wondering whether they’d pee on the stage, etc, etc, while the studio audience hooted and bayed in their cretinous ignorance and Attenborough sat there and took it….

Why didn’t he stand up, lamp Ross in the face and walk off? Presumably because he knew what was going to happen. In which case why did he not refuse to take part in this crass, humourless circus freak show of an excuse for television? Has he not always stood for treating animals with respect?

Well, in a few brief moments he lost some of the respect I’d gained for him over a lifetime in television.

So, slack-jawed with amazement. Again.

Slack-jawed in amazement describes the way many feel about the government’s proposed reforms of the National Health Service, but not me. Why should I be surprised that a wealthy ex-public schoolboy seeks to enrich his friends in law, banking and business for the sake of dogma at the expense of the great unwashed? It’s only to be expected.

It’s sad, nonetheless, that not enough people can see the prescription on the wall to man the barricades and halt the imminent lunacy.

The normally moderate Steve Richards wrote in i last week: “Sweeping upheaval is a polite way of describing the chaos that is being imposed. I met a lawyer who specialises in the sort of contracts the new GP consortia will be navigating. She told me the contracts will be nightmarishly complex and lawyers will charge a fortune to navigate on behalf of the consortia.

“Accountants will be similarly on hand to make money as GPs, trained in medicine, seek to become businesses on the back of guaranteed incomes from the Treasury, an arrangement that defies reason on several levels.

“Last week a GP wrote that more extreme forms of medical rationing are already taking hold, partly because of the unprecedented real-terms cuts in spending. This is before GPs have to calculate how much of the budget they have left for medical matters once they have spent huge sums on legal and administrative bills and perhaps on themselves.

“The changes would be calamitous at the best of times but to attempt such reform when spending is being cut takes ideological commitment to a level well beyond anything attempted by Thatcher.”

Even the Commons health committee, chaired by a former Tory health secretary, Stephen Dorrell, has said the push for reorganisation is complicating the push for efficiency gains.

Here’s what the NHS actually means.

My father, 83, went for a chest scan, a regular X-ray having revealed a suspicious shadow on his lung. Dad worked with asbestos when a young man, so has always been very aware of the danger of mesothelioma, the aggressive form of lung cancer that ends the lives of many in his position in pain and misery.

Naturally, he was, shall we say, concerned, and so were his family.

How long do you think it took for the result of the scan to be communicated to my anxious 83-year-old father and his worried family?

Three weeks.

How does that sort of delay even begin to reside on the same continent as acceptable?

After phone calls, some e-mails and lots of waiting, he got a call early one morning from a secretary, a complete stranger, telling him he had to report to a chest clinic at 11 the following morning. They hadn’t even bothered to talk to the people he knows and trusts at his local surgery to get them to communicate carefully with him. Naturally, they couldn’t say why he had to report the following day. So another sleepless night there, then. What a shocking way to treat a human being.

How do health reforms fit into this impersonal, corporatist health service? Well, has reform in other public services – telephones, water, power, transport – meant the customer comes first, his or her needs being the primary driver in the way the service is delivered?

No.

Will business-driven GP consortia ensure results arrive more quickly and are communicated more considerately?  

No.

The only motivation for change should be to ensure people are treated as individuals, with dignity and respect, their needs driving their care.

If you agree with that, and oppose these lunatic reforms, please visit the campaign site 38 Degrees and register your opposition.

What I should have said about rain

It occurred to me yesterday that I had rather underplayed the situation vis-à-vis rain on this page a few weeks ago.

I thought this because, for a few brief moments this Saturday, the sky was blue and the sun shone, warming the old bones. A few days before that, the 18th of January, Management and I stared in wonder out of the windows of our newish home and exclaimed in delight at the pretty pink sky to the east, heralding the sun’s rise. It was the first sunrise we’d seen, that January 18th, since we moved in. On October 21st.

So on Saturday, I worked outside and looked forward like a child with a birthday to more of the same on Sunday. Well, you’ll all know what happened on Sunday.

So, as I said, I rather underplayed the feeling on the subject of whether or not it’s raining.

What I should have said was: “It’s f**king sh**ting wretchedly pi**ing c***ing endlessly w***ing b**t**ding pitilessly b**g**ing t***ting constantly c**king t***ing miserably bl***y f**king raining again and again and again and again and again and again, f**king sh**ting wretchedly pi**ing c***ing endlessly w***ing b**t**ding pitilessly b**g**ing t***ting constantly c**king t***ing miserably bl***y f**king raining again and again and again and again and again and again, so that even Noah would have thought the weather in this miserable stinking wretched filthy cursed grey putrid revolting little arsehole of a country was a bit too extreme, f**king sh**ting wretchedly pi**ing c***ing endlessly w***ing b**t**ding pitilessly b**g**ing t***ting constantly c**king t***ing miserably bl***y f**king raining again and again and again and again and again and again, to the extent that there’s actually more water in my garden than there is in the entire Pacific Ocean, f**king sh**ting wretchedly pi**ing c***ing endlessly w***ing b**t**ding pitilessly b**g**ing t***ting constantly c**king t***ing miserably bl***y f**king raining again and again and again and again and again and again, so that any thought of warmth, dryness, comfort, light, happiness, decency is but a distant memory.

That’s what I should have said.

Public service blogging

Who says journalism (or at least this type of journalism, such as it is) no longer provides a public service?

With the help of Brother Hamster and Brother Bassett, we have this week been conducting vital research into the reach of Test Match Special on long wave, and can report, thanks to the good brothers, that it lasts all the way across the channel and up into the mountains. It is possible to drive from Cornwall to an Alp in the company, throughout, of Aggers and crew.

Next week, no doubt, Brother Hamster, with the help of Mrs Hamster, will be able to give us the results of his subsequent research project, on the effect of uninterrupted Test Match Special on marriage.

 

Comments

Comment from Numbers
Time January 31, 2012 at 11:49 am

I’m delighted to report that TMS can be received throughout Europe, free of charge, via satellite ………… and that management doesn’t object!
I once tried to share this listening experience with a Sri Lankan guy who was also camped near the French Mediterranian coast, while we were playing Sri Lanka last summer, but he didn’t understand cricket at all – how weird is that?

Comment from StentsRus
Time January 31, 2012 at 1:05 pm

Ah! Numbers old chap. You obviously understand how to play cricket. Can you explain the “offside rule” to me?

Comment from Numbers
Time January 31, 2012 at 1:33 pm

Does it have anything to do with The Blowfeld Convention?

Comment from Numbers
Time January 31, 2012 at 2:02 pm

Sorry, Blofeld ……. my spelling is getting worse with age!

Comment from StentsRus
Time January 31, 2012 at 3:31 pm

My Dear Old Thing! I do believe the Blofeld Convention was the convention for not showing the face of Ernst Stavro Blofeld during any of the James Bond films. Sorry to have troubled you on the rules front, I’ll just have to continue in ignorance.

Comment from Stuart
Time February 1, 2012 at 11:03 am

Look, Stents, clearly you know nothing about euchre, as the Blofeld Convention covers the doubling of points scored when using the curse of Scotland, and offside is nothing to do with cricket – it’s all about driving your car on the right, I believe. All clear?

Comment from StentsRus
Time February 1, 2012 at 3:32 pm

Fraser Old Chap! I do believe you’ve finally lost it. As you very well know I have never claimed to know the first thing about euchre.
The offside question was obviously beyond the realms of Numbers and I have already apologised for asking.
As for driving my car on the right, are you mad? I’ve never heard of anything so preposterous!

Comment from ROGER
Time February 1, 2012 at 6:02 pm

I think you have been ‘timmed’

Comment from One Old Fiddle
Time February 2, 2012 at 8:10 pm

Errr…..is this a game of Mornington Crescent. If it is, I’ll go Kentish Town.

Comment from Stuart
Time February 2, 2012 at 9:43 pm

Goodge Street

Comment from StentsRus
Time February 3, 2012 at 10:27 am

Ah…Of course…Graham Gooch!….he’ll be able to explain the offside rule to me. Thank you Fraser.

Comment from Stuart
Time February 3, 2012 at 10:46 am

Cockfosters

Comment from StentsRus
Time February 3, 2012 at 12:10 pm

no…that was a cul-de-sac….Goochy said “ask Gough” ….at least that’s what it sounded like.

Comment from Hamster
Time February 5, 2012 at 11:37 am

ah hah TMS also worked yesterday on the way back from the Alps, although Englands progress was poor I stuck with it. When the Cricket finished I found that the Football on BBC 5 Live was clear as bell in N. France and Arsenal v Blackburn (not that I support either) was entertaining with the Gunners popping 7 goals in to Rovers 1. Then of course back on home turf at five o’clock the Rugby 6 nations and the Calcutta Cup with England doing the biz over Scotland at Murrayfield (hard luck Stuart). All I can say is good job Mrs Hamster is good at sleeping in the car!!!!

Comment from Hamster
Time February 5, 2012 at 11:48 am

This Weeks Hamster Top Tip – Don’t eat yellow snow or what appear to be chocolate popsicles, they are just not nice.

Comment from StentsRus
Time February 5, 2012 at 11:55 am

Did anyone else notice? BBC SW weather forecasts on wednesday and thursday issued “yellow” snow warnings. By friday these had been changed to “amber”.
Perhaps they had anticipated The Hamster Top Tip?

Write a comment

You need to login to post comments!