Dear Ms May,
I always vote Tory (except when I vote Labour) and over the past few months I’ve been admiring your politics from afar.
Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Mr Strugatsky and I run a little wax works museum here on the Isle of Wight. When I say little I actually have over two million exhibits but I only have enough room to display about twenty of them.
I have been creating and displaying Waxworks here on the island for over thirty years. My Elton John won a ‘realism’ award, my Prince Charles was invited to open a local supermarket and my Tom cruise was mistaken for Tom Cruise (by Tom Cruise himself!).
However, like a true Tory, I have ambitions Ms May! And my ambitions are not limited to creating faithful wax replicas of second rate singers, chin-less monarchists and freakishly small Hollywood heroes.
I’m set to expand! My next exhibition at the museum will be called ‘The Great Chastisement of General Practice’ or put more simply ‘The Great Purge’, and it will show case you Ms May!
The exhibit will consist of three rooms. In the first room you and your cabinet are having a meeting at Number 10. You’re discussing how to destroy the medical profession in order to guarantee your absolute right to rule. You will provide the voice over and the sequence will end with a great rumbling noise and the chandeliers in the ceiling will flash on and off.
The curious visitor will then proceed to the second room where you and Jeremy Hunt are implementing your plan. Jeremy has a branding iron and you are whipping huddled masses of GPs with a special ‘punishing stick’. Some of them are boarding rowboats bound for Australia and others are shackled and lining up to face the gallows with the words GMC written in blood on their backs. This is a dramatic setting, there will be a torrential downpour, there will be thunder and lightning and you will be giggling hysterically.
Then in the third and final room we see you and Jeremy relaxing in the dining room at Number 10. General practice has been destroyed and privatised. You are waistcoated and smoking cigars, there is parlour music, bird-song, tea and scones and a billionaire American business man is signing a big fat cheque in the background. Order has finally been restored.
Visitors to the exhibition will then exit through the gift shop where they can buy photos of themselves looking at the exhibits. They will then exit through another gift shop where they can buy photos of themselves looking at photos of themselves looking at the exhibits.
It’s a guaranteed money spinner Ms May and I’m sure you are as excited as I am, not least because I’m sure you’d like the Great British public to know exactly what’s happening to their health service.
I hope you don’t mind but I have already taken the liberty of sending you some samples of my work. So please don’t panic when Mick Hucknall’s fingers arrive in the post.
If you wish to meet up to discuss my ideas then please give me at least four months’ notice because the ferries here are shit.
Happy waxing,
Mr Strugatsky
