Warning: contains mixed metaphors. The following piece gets away from me a bit: I started talking about a barber, then monarchs, then moved into a house, moved into madhouse, and visited a toy shop, but then it is Christmas.
Prime Ministers sometimes get confused and think they’re Absolute Monarchs. (Remember Maggie Thatcher on the steps of number ten announcing: “We are a grandmother.”? The poor old deluded absolute eejit, sure God love her.)
So David Cameron may have gone to Eton but I’m afraid now his whole Upstairs Downstairs world is looking a bit topsy-turvy as he has taken a job as a civil servant working for us tax payers.
He’s our butler managing our resources, but he’s no Jeeves coming up with elegant solutions. He and his ilk have one solution that they apply to everything willy-nilly: “the logic of the market” also known as “the economics of the madhouse”.
Into this madhouse they take something like our flawed but wonderful NHS and look at it and think about what to do with it.
Then like Bagpuss and his crack team of toy-menders, they walk around it, singing “we will fix it, we will fix it” but really they can’t understand what they are looking at because they are all in BUPA.
But these Tory boys don’t let ignorance stop them from having a jolly confident bash at sorting it out: usually with a rallying cry of “cuts!” followed by a frenzied attack with scissors.
We can’t let these rampaging posh wallies destroy such a hard won precious progressive resource as our NHS just because they aren’t capable of understanding its value.
Being a melodramatic drama queen I’m tempted to go round to number ten with a good sharp pair of scissors and a perforated line drawn across my throat announcing: “Here, Cameron, start your cuts here, because I’m costing the NHS a wee fortune.”
It’s what they’re doing anyway if they make four per cent cuts: they’re killing people.
This is barbarism.
I’m heading off now this morning to the Royal Free to start my very expensive chemotherapy. I have no idea what it costs but I know that Dr Alison Jones has fought to get it for me. And I know that I am not doffing my cap and receiving charity. These drugs are paid for from my taxes and your taxes in a progressive system that Beveridge dreamt up to ensure universal access to healthcare for all. Don’t let Cameron fuck it up on us! Please!