A day for rejoicing - the NHS has published a document spelling out 'rights and responsibilities' under the NHS Charter (what do you mean, you didn't know there was one?). Yes, yet another fautuous exercise in magical thinking - if it is written, it shall be so. This lot love to have everything in writing (which certainly keeps the lawyers in business), and if they're around much longer they'll surely send the country hurtling to perdition by coming up with a written Constitution... Anyway, defending the NHS document, cheeky chappie Alan Johnson (a joke, a song and a ward closure) said it contained 'the prose and poetry of the NHS'. Poetry of the NHS, eh? This calls for a competition (no prizes, no winners, of course). Here's a quick haiku to get the ball rolling...
In the waiting room.
I shall be here for ever.
The harsh light buzzes.
Over to you...
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I do not know you.
ReplyDeleteYou call me by my first name.
Now I know my place.
Hang on, I'm writing a bloody sonnet here...nearly done.
ReplyDeleteI'm agog Brit...
ReplyDeleteBit of a first draft obviously, but here's a Shakesperian (don't need to tell you that) about the 3 month scan the wife had the other week.
ReplyDeleteSouthmead Hospital Maternity Unit Sonnet
Forked out three sixty just for the car park,
Actually four ‘cause of course the machine
Doesn’t give back your change. Then the sarc-
astic receptionist – eye-bagged, pale green
As the walls in the worn waiting room –
Ticks you off, and says sit anywhere.
So we sit in unfathomable gloom
Even though we’re all glad to be there,
And you think, is this what communism
Is like, and if Bevan had this chair
Would Aneurin have an aneurysm:
Look on my works, ye dreamers, and despair?
Yet, all the miracles we need in life
Are a safe scan, and a saintly midwife.
Well, I have written some lines to honour this auspicious new publication!
ReplyDeleteCome in, sit down,
my name is Cash.
They say you have a nasty rash.
Alas to treat is far too dear
so take a jump off end of pier.
Thank you Brit - some fine rhymes there , and Aneurin-aneurysm an inspired touch - oh and Congratulations too. And thank you Mark for your neat summing-up - nailed it. Now I think a Pindaric ode is called for...
ReplyDeleteThanks.
ReplyDelete(btw, to make the magnificent sonnet above work you have to read it in de-dah-de-dah school iambic pentameter. If you try to follow the flow of the sentences it's an absolute mess...)
Of Charters I know nothing at all
ReplyDeleteStaring at this taupe coloured wall
Wondering if Sir Dickie is still feeling trickie
Upstairs after his nasty fall
Gandhi men and their wives pack the room
Designed for ten there are fifty, a tomb
But to me every week its the place that I seek
The crypt that became a womb
A Clerihew (the Pindaric Ode is mysteriously stalled)...
ReplyDeleteThe NHS
Is in a mess
But let's pretend
It's on the mend.
I've fixed up the sonnet a bit.
ReplyDeleteThe rashes that bloom in the spring
ReplyDeletetra la,
We promise to bring into line
as we merrily charge for your car
tra la
We welcome the dosh that it brings
tra la
Of a summer of new hips and saline
Of a summer of new hips and saline
And that's what we mean when we say that a thing is welcome as salaries that bloom in the spring
Gum-gum, Petit-Mal, Mankey Poo and Polyps-Bah
Tra la la la la
Tra la la la la
Tra la la la la la
The polyps that bloom in the spring
Tra la
Have nothing to do with my case
I've got to take under my wing
A most unattractive old thing
Tra la
With a caricature of a face
With a caricature of a face
And that's what I mean when I say or I sing
O bother the patients that give us a ring
Tra la la la la
Tra la la la la
O bother the patients that give us a ring
Gum-gum, Petit-Mal, Mankey Poo and Polyps-Bah
i work here
ReplyDeleteso i may live
and so work till i die
(by a NHS typist)
Or:
100 managers to one typist
each manager paid a fortune
to meet with other managers
A fine summation, Malty, Elberry and all!
ReplyDelete