THE NATIONAL ELF SERVICE
(Shrinking by the minute!)
If you ring for an ambulance,
Because you’re at death’s door;
You’ll only have to wait six hours,
And not a minute more.
But if Fate’s given you a week,
Before you pass away;
The Medics somehow seem to know,
And so they’ll take all day.
Thus if you’ve had a heart attack,
Don’t waste time on the ‘phone;
Get jogging to the hospital,
Because you’re on your own.
Or if you’ve broken your left leg,
Don’t wait for them all night;
Get on yer bike to A & E,
And pedal with the right.
A touch of mild Bubonic Plague?
Then here’s a savvy tip;
Don’t tell Emergency Control,
Or they’ll just send a skip.
And when the promised ambulance,
Fails to appear at all;
The moment that you phone them back,
They’ll treat you like a fool.
It’s not they’re understaffed and have,
An insufficient fleet;
But everyday each ambulance,
Drives through rain, snow and sleet.
Then when they reach the hospital,
They’ll form a lengthy queue;
To try the patient’s patience and
Weed out the dying few.
So when you finally arrive,
In frenzied A & E;
You’ll wish you’d gone to BUPA and,
Paid their excessive fee.
Because some hours further on,
You’ll hear it vaguely said;
That your condition’s terminal,
But they’ve got no spare bed.
The selfish bloke in the next bay,
Has still not gasped and died;
Until he does, the hospital
And all its hands are tied.
Your visitors will then endure,
That bureaucratic sleaze;
The privilege of paying for,
The Health Trust’s parking fees.
They won’t admit it’s a cash cow,
But glibly fib and say;
That it prevents cars parking for,
The shops three miles away.
Assuming that one can, of course,
Get in the parking lot;
As the lake at the hospital,
Takes half the space they’ve got.
Now with Health Budgets frozen then,
Such waiting will increase;
So take some Wittgenstein to read,
And also ‘War and Peace’.
The NHS would be quite good,
Our politicians say;
If it weren’t for the patients who,
Get in the bloody way!
© Richard Layton
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