‘‘My Prescription to Cure the NHS’’

~It’s time to toughen up our soft hospitals says CHARLIE PONTOON

WHEN

I WAS A LAD, you’d do anything in your power to stay out of hospital, because they were bloody awful places. The doctors and nurses were terrifying figures, ruling the wards with a rod of iron. And woe betide you if you rubbed matron up the wrong way, I can tell you. No, back then, if you found yourself in your local infirmary you bloody well made sure you got better asap and got out of there as quick as you could.

These days, a stay in hospital is like a holiday in a five star hotel. There’s a comfy bed and a colour television in every room. You don’t get that at the Ritz. And if you shit the bed, you just ring a bell and two nurses come to wipe your arse, change your sheets and tuck you back in. Where’s the incentive to get up and shuffle off to aim your dirtbox at your en suite bloody toilet? You couldn’t make it up.

Well enough is enough. Ill my arse, these so-called “patients” are taking the piss. They should be left to wallow in their own cess, see how they like that for a change. You’d be surprised how quickly they’d get better if they had to lie there for a couple of days in a cloud of bluebottles, all caked in their own filth.

What’s more, when you’re in hospital these days you get three gourmet meals a day and a bloody menu to choose from. Have you ever heard anything so daft? If they didn’t give them food, these malingering scroungers would soon fuck off home when they got hungry enough, don’t you worry. It’s common sense, something that’s sadly lacking in this country these days.

And as for rowdy drunks attacking the staff in A&E on a Friday night, there’s an obvious solution to that problem too. Get the doctors tooled up, and quick. It doesn’t matter how pissed you are, you’d sharp sober up when the quack put away his stethoscope and stuck a .38 special in your fucking face. Job done.