Last Cunt Standing

I’m not sure why you care, tbh Bill. As an avowed anti-vaxxer you must surely see GPs as government stooges and thus not worth bothering with, especially when the pills they flog in the back of the Fortean Times pretty much cover everything from osteoporosis to Von Willebrands Syndrome. GPs would once have shied away from industrial action, fearful of public backlash. Now the ones I speak to don’t give a shit, so sick are they of the mindless public turning on them after reading the Daily Mail. It is of course a bear trap they are walking into, just like the junior medics a few years back. They know it’s suicide. The public will go full toddler if they can’t see a doctor with their 20 year mole that might be a melanoma cos Kylies Mum said so. Expect emotional leverage with old Doris and her leg ulcer being all over Kay Burley. A new model is coming. Where once it would have been resisted, now it will be applauded. Appointments will be £30+ a go and you’ll claim some of that back either from BUPA or the NHS, leaving you with a gap fee. Same the world over. Multiple problems, multiple charges. GPs will click away at their billing software while you moan about your bunions. Thirty appointments a day becomes £1k a day fairly easily and supply/demand will start to align. The keener and more enthused (Greedy) will hoover up waiting rooms and queues, perhaps charging an extra tenner to the desperate to be “fast tracked”. The poor will be locked out of healthcare, suffer hugely, clog up A+E in their droves, leading inevitably to charges in A+E too to restrict demand. Quackery and self care will boom. It’s how the NHS dies. Patients and Staff blaming each other while the Tory Cunts in charge just stir the pot and collect their dividends. Come to think of it Bill, your years in the charge per half-hour industries might soon be in demand at your local health centre. I suggest you pop down and ask, maybe in the Sash and Bowler Hat. You’ll have to shout through the letter box but they’ll be glad of your advice.

Can I get a field report on the Saudis rolling into Toon and sacking Wor Steve, Killer? Any truth in the rumour there’s been an outbreak of lasses in Homemade Hijab hanging round the Bigg Market trying to bag themselves a Sheikh?

I think it’s high time you joined in, Neil. Tart up the Rascal with pink ribbon and glitter, stick some Swarfega on your face as impromptu slap, and ride from Kings Lynn to a Felixstowe in search of yourself while in a haze of Amyl Nitrate. Elton can do the soundtrack, and we’ll call it PeNeilope, Queen of The Dessert. Fantabulosa!

Pay no attention to the bullies, Judy. I for one think the place would be much poorer without the spectacle of you getting smashed about like a Piñata at an ADHD-only kindergarten. Perhaps you can tell us if there is a cultural equivalent of a Piñata in the Red Sea Pedestrian shenanigans? Maybe four bearded Rabbis don blindfolds and have a bash at infant circumcision, if you can tear them away from the Monopoly board for long enough. Do they have church-fete style fundraisers in Judaism? Beat the Kippah, Kosher meat raffle, guess the weight of the unleavened bread, Pin the blame on the Gentile, that sort of thing? Do tell.

I’ve heard many idiot stories about health-related matters over the years SC, but even I’ve been shocked at the prevalence of swivel-eyed loons these past months. I’ve particularly enjoyed the scenes outside the CFMEU offices over there in your neck of the woods of late. These fluorescent idiots are people we trust to build houses for us. I’m not big on conspiracy theories, but it does strike me that one consequence of the WhuFlu is the expedited death of societal consensus in the West, given that there is yet more infighting and distrust of authority. We now spend so much time arguing about Cervixes, Electoral Fraud, Cultural Appropriation and Police Violence, in addition to COVID, that if ever there emerged a threat which required a United response, we’d be struggling to agree which way is up. If so inclined you might wonder cui Bono?

Overexposed, is our Rosie.

I made the mistake of flicking over to this match about 60 minutes in, and briefly thought I’d found a CCTV feed from a Northern Shopping Centre. Lots of standing about and shouting. Even the commentators appeared to have given up and gone for a coffee, they had literally nothing to say for five minutes. At least games like this used to have proper fouling and a comedy cabbage patch pitch. Not even that now. Pointless. Well, one each. Grim.

So pretty much going to plan then, and any problems are both transient and the fault of remainers and/or COVID. Marvellous. That brief foray into dentistry must be the only mistake you’ve ever made, no? You’re more infallible than the Pope.

Any war heroes in my family would not wish to be used as rhetorical devices, you ignorant twat. Running away from what? You? If moving to Australia to allow my Australian wife to care for her elderly relatives is running away then you got me, Colombo. Scummy trot? You’ve hurt my feelings. It must frustrate you intensely that you’ll never fulfil that desire to spend the night in a foxhole and prove yourself more than a gelatinous blob of insignificance with a deep need to turn every encounter they ever have into a contest and a conflict. You talk of treachery with no realisation of who you should really be angry with and why all your hard work is ultimately for nothing. Brexit is the Somme, and there you are, the poor witless Tommy, clinging to your rifle with unshakable belief in General Farage, unable to comprehend why the daily shelling doesn’t stop and why the officer class all seem to spend more and more time living it up 30 miles behind the lines. One day, you’ll realise what a fucking waste it all was. Until then, look out for trench foot and keep the brazier topped up.

To say I take pleasure in the debacle is not quite accurate, other than momentary chuckling when I see grown men fighting over a Jerry can. I feel sad for Britain and what she has become, and that no one can seemingly take the blame or acknowledge error, even to say it is not going well, so welded are they to the cause. Excuses abound. There is a huge proportion of the country that will never forgive what was foisted upon them, and the pain has sadly just begun.

Apparently it’s a “hindrance and opportunity for Brexit”, Panz. All I see is the world pissing themselves with laughter.

You win. I can’t compete with this in the spit-your-Merlot across the room stakes. Britain sounds like fun at the minute. Enjoy.

Nil desperandum, Killer. In the Frozen North you’ll always have a surfeit of Broon Ale and pneumatic tarts in mini skirts. And fat shirtless blokes if the crowd at Molyneaux is anything to go by. You can always eat Ant n Dec.

Ah, of course, the Pandemic. Presumably why they are brawling in the streets of Lille and Hamburg over a gallon of unleaded. Heaven forbid you might have been wrong. Ah well, nearly Christmas.

Well indeed. If there is one thing your Grandads’ comrades stormed the Normandy beaches for, it’s the right for their gobshite offspring to despise foreigners and crush dissent. I do hope you’ve managed to keep your diesel topped up this week. Those sanitary bins won’t empty themselves.