Dear Sir in charge of healthcare,
Fear not! Hope is at hand (at least I hope so!).
Every day I read a newspaper and every day I watch the news, so you can imagine how well informed I am. But I can’t help noticing that you seem to be having quite a bit of bother with these pesky doctors.
Once ensnared they can be loaded onto boats and shipped off to Australia
Like you, I think that doctors are over-qualified and overrated and whenever I get a new symptom I skip the middle man and go straight to Google (not Gogol, he was a Russian romantic novelist from the 19th century). I must have a pretty strong constitution because at the last count I’ve survived over 15 types of self-diagnosed cancer. But I’m not here to talk about my lumpy foreskin and I’m not here to talk about my bobbly bell-end, I’m here to talk about you.
Let me explain. I used to work as the chief inventor at the International Bureau of Soviet Ideas and Statistics (SHITSTA). I invented many things, including the paperclip, headed note paper, the double cigarette holder, lift music, bee holders, finger sleeves and bread gloves, all of which, I’ll think you’ll agree, have greatly enriched the quality of our lives (especially the bee holder).
But then I went astray. During a camping trip to Kalmykia (look it up on Gogol Earth) I accidentally ate a whole plateful of Mrs S’s strange yet delicious mushrooms and spent the rest of my time designing a range of musical instruments for tiny woodland creatures (including a harp for squirrels; they’ve got really small hands but boy can those buggers play!). It was whilst I was off my tits in a tent that I was able to create something quite unique, I came up with a whole new ‘genre’ of sausage. I called it the Shoshage. So potent is the Shoshage that my wife assures me that as long as she’s got a breath in her body it will never see the light of day.
But let me get back to the meat (or should I say Shoshage) of my letter.
I understand where you’re coming from, I do. I know how difficult it is to destroy a group of well respected professionals, especially when the group has adopted a utilitarian approach to social problems and has social justice at its very core, ideas which are completely at odds with your brand of conservative everyone-for-himself capitalism. It’s difficult to destroy these groups because they tend to be quite popular, I mean just look how long it took Thatcher to kill off the teaching profession!
But worry ye not good Sir! For I, Mr Strugatsky, have invented the DOCTRAP-2000. It’s easy to build, easy to use and easy to clean. I tried the trap out on my wife and it took her three weeks and two mops before she could engineer her escape.
Simply invite the doctors (start with the junior ones first as they tend to weigh less) to a clinical meeting. Promise them powerpoint slides and CPD points, free pens and as many nibbles as they can eat. I suggest providing lots of Shoshage. Their natural curiosity will take over and as they queue up with their paper plates WHAM, KA-BOOM!! Once ensnared they can be loaded onto boats and shipped off to the sunny shores of Australia or the wintry ones of Canada. But unlike boomerangs (or those bent sticks they throw around in Canada whose name I can never remember) they won’t be coming back! This means you don’t have to bother with all that fuss dicking about with their contracts, slashing their funding and making them work 24 hours a day, seven days a week like grovelling penniless gutter-slaves in NHS shit-farms.
I’ve enclosed a drawing of my invention because it’s too big to fit in a photo.
Remember, draw not your bow until your arrow is fixed lest the goat eat up the wolf, as we say in Mother Russia,
Dr Kevin Hinkley is a GP in Edinburgh