The adventures of Mr Strugatsky and the GP closures
Through the K Hole
Dear Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson,
Mind if I call you de Pfeffel?
I’m over the moon that you’re in charge! And you must be too, because you can now spend the £350m a week you promised!
But I’m not writing just to congratulate you, I’m writing because I have an idea. But before I get into the nitty gritty, let me give you some background.
My wife, Mrs Strugatsky, has a dicky thyroid. It’s been that way for 20 years, and for all that time she’s been seeing the same GP.
Unfortunately, just as she was about to find out the cause of the problem, he left a goodbye note in the window of the practice and mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again. The surgery advertised for ages, but couldn’t find anybody qualified enough to work there, so the practice closed down.
Whenever my wife walks past the boarded-up building, she sheds a tear or two, because she knows that there's now nobody to talk thyroid with (she gave up attempting to do so with me 19 and a half years ago).
The practice has now been replaced with a fancy new Starbucks, and believe me, the staff in there know next to nothing about Hashimoto’s.
The Starbucks staff know nothing about Hashimoto’s
But rest assured, Mr de Pfeffel! Like yourself, I don't give up easily, and over the past year, I’ve been busy designing a brand new practice for the town.
In my local area, I’ve spoken with GPs, healthcare providers and the health trust, as well as town planners, civil engineers and residents. No stone has been left unturned, and I’ve toiled night and day on it. My plans for a new GP practice are now ready, and I hope to secure the first £350m you promised to make it a gleaming reality.
I'll even name it De Pfeffel Towers in your honour, and have attached detailed plans for your perusal).
PS: Please give me the money, as my wife endlessly going on about her thyroid is getting a bit much.