Abstract

The Brexit vote is historical if not hysterical and it can only mean one thing – revolution. It is clear that the time is ripe for the common men and women of our country to fight back against the repressive capitalism that has beset our society – and the start should be a pay rise! In an ideal world, we would adopt the best of Europe with the best of British. The former would include a French-style 36-h week, but with the very British quirk of being able to work it in one shift. It would be fun if we were to adopt the Italian style of driving – in which case the new breed of autonomous vehicles would need to be fast, random and noisy. A Greek-style tax system would be a fine thing – 10% top rate income tax, but only if you feel like it. The Germanic traits to adopt would be those of efficiency – and if we take a Putin-esque approach to the unions (yes, I know Russia isn’t part of Europe but it’s only a matter of time before they invade and are camping out on our door-step), then those efficiencies will actually come to fruition.
And what of our Britishness? Clearly, we need to clone our Olympiads (a touch of Italian ethics coming in there). We need to mandate Morris dancing every first Saturday of the month, and village stocks should be reintroduced; no week should be complete without at least one trip to throw decaying food products at one of our wayward neighbours. Summer fetes seem to be thriving once again, and this should be actively encouraged along with the exponential rise in festivals. That said, the latter need to go more hard core and mandate at least a one mile hike from the bus drop-off point, with no private vehicles allowed within a fifty mile radius; the experience should be an eclectic mix of Woodstock, Bear Grylls and National Service. We should mandate silence on all public transport with strictly no conversation allowed between strangers other than impeccably polite and British niceties about the weather, the offering up of a seat, or a comment on what a ‘thoroughly good read that book is’. The exception to this rule would be for those travelling on Southern trains for whom conversation between strangers is the only way to survive the long hours of delays and cancellations, and establish alternative routes into and out of Surrey, Sussex and Kent.
Brexit surely paves the way for our return to a full monarchic system, which would allow the devolution of our current political system into a full blown feudal one. We’ve got to rewrite most of the laws anyway, so why not return to a system that worked well (provided you had land and money)? After all, the Brexit campaign and vote is proof if needed that if you want a democratic answer then under no circumstances should you consult the general public – and don’t expect our politicians to offer any sensible advice or direction along the way. The political process that led to Brexit is evidence that the current democratic system is failing and the outcome supports a return to feudalism – it’s surely the only rational way forward. So how would a feudal health service look? For starters, it would be profitable. Given the historic wealth generated through the practice of leaching, expulsion of evil humours, boil-lancing, etc., the monetary value of modern healthcare surely ranks high. If the past price for successfully applying leaches was a goat or pig, then the modern equivalent (e.g. a robotic laparoscopic anterior resection) must be in the realms of a herd of said animals – which means health care professionals will sit well within the landed and moneyed classes. Of course change to such a new feudal system can only be brought about through revolting peasants – but that’s not too far removed from the current democracy anyway.
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Wood has been in an uncharacteristically wistful and whimsical mood, since his return from Geri-Fest ’16. The spirit of festivals obviously prevails, not least in the admission-headband he continues to wear despite the protestations of the infection control police which have culminated in a number of critical incident reports and a pending panel review. Wood remains unphased; he attended a talk by a gentleman called Sparrow-Hawk on the value of biodiversity and its essential symbiosis in the survival of our species, and the truth of the words expounded on that star-filled night still resonate. He intends to consolidate his more balanced approach to life by regularly attending festivals throughout the year. This will prevent the re-indoctrination that occurs when he necessarily has to step back onto the capitalist conveyor belt in order to pass on the benefits of his healing powers to patients and trainees alike. His next foray is to Fest-Fest ’16 – a ‘winter celebration of all things festival’.
“Are you OK?” asks Trees.
“I’m perfect in my imperfections” replies Wood.
“You seem a changed man. We haven’t had a complaint about you bullying for months; and we’ve actually had some compliments from patients and their relatives about how well you communicated with them. The Trust management is worried you may have had a stroke.”
“I finally found my spiritual being amongst kindred souls at the summer festival” answers Wood.
“Obviously” replies Trees. “Was there any trouble at all?”
“A few crush fractures from overdoing the pogo-ing, and a couple of fights over toilet access, but apart from that it was all peace and love. We had some great conversations about our experiences at Woodstock.”
“But you didn’t go to Woodstock” comments Trees.
“A minor point given that none of the others could remember being there in any case” retorted Wood.
“Well, seeing as you are in such a good place in life, now seems an appropriate time to inform you that the parking fees doubled while you were away and the Trust is taking away our offices in order to accommodate some in-house retail outlets. It’s all part of the drive to generate more income” says Trees.
“How come I didn’t know anything about it? I’m on the damn finance strategy committee after all” Woods asks, starting to feel enraged.
“It seems the meetings were timed when you were on leave – in fact so many people were on leave the motions ended up being approved by ‘Chair-person’s action’” replies Trees, starting to see a chink in Wood’s composed facade.
“That two-timing, back-stabbing, money-grabbing bottom-dweller! I’ll rip off his head and shove next year’s targets down his scrawny little neck” screams Wood as he snatches off the headband, kicks the door open and marches down the corridor to the Headmistress’s office.
Footnotes
The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent, and should not be attributed to the Journal of the Intensive Care Society, the Intensive Care Society, the Editors, or the Publisher, SAGE.
