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There's not enough hours in the week...literally

With just one week's worth of primary care policy initiatives, the Government has taken away any time left for me to eat, drink, crap or shag. Or protest at all this bollocks.

With just one week's worth of primary care policy initiatives, the Government has taken away any time left for me to eat, drink, crap or shag. Or protest at all this bollocks.



As things stand, I start work at 8.15am and finish about 6.45 pm. Bung in enhanced hours plus the odd bit of paperwork I take home, subtract a supposed half day (which usually ends around 4pm, ha!) and you're looking at a 55 hour working week. Big deal – you do the same.

I can get by on six or seven hours sleep per night. So subtract my working and slumbering hours from the number of hours available in any one week and you're left with…say…32 hours.

OK. Now read your latest issue of Pulse. Policing smokers giving up, and checking that they remain a fag-free zone… let's say two hours per week. Screening workload soars…that'll be five hours per week. New care plans to be 10 hours per week... cool, they've done the maths for me. E-consultations on the way… that'll be another five hours each week.

Bear in mind that's only one Pulse edition's worth of the fabbest innovations and impositions from the wacky world of primary care. To take account of other time-consuming stories that have passed me by, we should add, say, another 10 hours to our weekly workload. So, let's see….available time in week is 32 hours…extra time needed per week is…err…2+5+10+5+10 = blow me down with a time warping, focus driven, non evidence based, politically driven government initiative! 32 hours!!

Put simply, what this means is that all the new ideas being bandied around for primary care mean that you and I will have time, during the week, to work and sleep.

And that's it. No eating, no watching TV, no having sex, no relaxing, no gardening, no playing with the kids, no washing, no defaecating, no contemplating life from over the rim of a glass of Sauvignon, no keeping fit, no going to the shops, no time to protest at all this bollocks, no fun, no point in this stupid crappy job anymore.

All I can say is, I'm going to enjoy the weekends.

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