A place for Guest bloggers, to have a space here on THE DEMPSEY DIARIES.




Love letter from an ex-nurse

Boris and Hancock I’ve something to say,
For too long with our NHS you’ve had your way,
And no…I agree that it wasn’t just you,
But I blame those two wankers before you too.
It was joke her care went to Jeremy Hunt,
Who, lets face it, is a right royal…muppet. (Its OK I won’t go there in public)
But as if that wasn’t bad enough,
You took our old lady and treated her rough.
You cut staff numbers, a total farce,
And left the system on its arse.
Now nurses start their career with the type of debt,
Once they see their first wage slip they soon regret,
As training bursaries were quickly scrapped,
And pay rises frozen when they weren’t being capped,
Over seven years across the nation,
Health workers pay fell after discounting inflation.
Junior Doctors strikes had never before been seen,
(Was that a high point for you and your team?)
And it was never all over the night shift pay,
Even though you keep trying to take that away,
But a seven day service with five day staff,
Makes me think Hunt never scored all that highly in Maths.
But then we had to consider his words to be ravings,
When he asked for 22 billion in ‘efficiency savings’
At a time when most trusts account books saw red,
(Have you ever considered a scan of his head?)
Now we’re forty thousand nurses and seven thousand GPs short,
And half the land is sold off and bought,
The Red Cross called winter pressures a humanitarian crisis,
It might be time to consider your decisions weren’t wisest,
Waiting times have soared since your little cronies arrived,
But that beardie twat Branson’s business has thrived,
As you handed out contracts like they were sweeties,
He’s had so many now he has Type 2 diabetes.
You accused Labour of buying a coffin to diy,
When they built en masse using YOUR scheme, PFI,
The one your mate Major dropped into play,
And you continue to use to this current day.
And now your decide its time to build more
After all, crumbling hospitals do seem quite poor
“Let’s build forty that seems fair
Makes it look like we really care”
So Hancock asks Hunt to lend him some paper
A pen, a ruler and a calculator
But trusting a Tory to do the math
Is being led willingly blinded down the garden path
Forty means six with some left over change
Thrown to the rest. Doesn’t that seem a little strange?
And those fifty thousand nurses might have to work some extra hours
Since 50 means 31 by Matt’s addition powers.
Makes me wonder if 5000 GP’s will turn up at all,
Or just 5. <With all the rest down as being ‘on call’)
And how do you suppose your word can be believed
When you lie more often than you breathe
Because how can you expect to allay all our fears,
When health targets have failed for over for years.
Waiting lists for surgery nearly have doubled,
With clinic and treatment times both equally troubled,
Those who wait in our A and Es four hours and more,
A 900 per cent rise you lot oversaw,
Average life span now sits at 83,
But that’s not for HEALTHY life expectancy,
Which comes in at an average of just 64,
So for twenty years we need your funding SO much more.
And now it’s time to entertain Trump
Who wants the NHS condemned as a mouldering dump
Because where is the profit in socialised care
It won’t pay for gold buildings or oddly coiffed hair
He wants those patents extended on US brand drugs
Generics are cheaper so he’s taking us for mugs
And it’s amazing you claim the NHS isn’t on the table
While the moving van arrives with brown paper and labels
So whilst it’s great for those who can afford to go private,
If you need an ambulance for Granny you will need to enter your Pin before they will drive it.
Probably better that I leave my epistle there,
Before I tell you how you buggered up Social Care


Everyone who gives a shit about the health service

Email me: ajackson@thebeaniebard.com

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