About time somebody was saying something nice about the NHS, is it not? The slagging it gets is deserved in some instances, I dare say, but I can only say how I found them, the employees, how I’ve just found them. Trust me, I’m not a doctor, as I keep telling my readers.
I hope the down-the-leaguers read this and pin it up where they’ll see it, during their break. They’re human, like you and me. Chirpy and cheerful. Civilised. All it took to cadge a cuppa and a digestive was an appreciative smile.
I departed the Western’s day care a new man. Mindful that the Western’s resources are stretched. I didn’t get to meet Doctor Kildare. Just happy to have a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Go forth and walk tall, Nurse Yvonne told me as she waved me ta-ta.
He Az no equal
Think you’re a bit of a smartass Gibson when you call him Charles Aznovoice? Well yes, because I’ve never taken him seriously. It’s got to be these ears because I’ve never taken the little sparrow, Edith Piaf, seriously either.
Mentioning Azno because he’s been performing in London’s Albert Hall with four score plus ten looming. Yes, four score plus ten. His London audience clamoured for his greatest hit, She, his own composition.
And another original, Yesterday When I Was Young. Can Azno remember that far back?
Afterwords . . .
. . . Geldof won’t keep it shut. Bob’s babbling: “It’s right to be angry. What’s dismaying about this latest catastrophic ----- called austerity is that it’s a technical term. But for tens of millions austerity is a reality, where people have no future whatsoever.’’ So we don’t live in a boomtown. Chuck us a fiver, Bob.