Copied from FB. Rather good, I think
I see you, Jeremy Hunt.
I see the cheeky little skip in your step, your smile wide and smugger than a cat drowning in cream. You’ve walked out of Number 10 with an expanded job title and the failing gastric band around your ego significantly loosened, so it’s off to Twitter to congratulate yourself you go. Of all the intolerable facets of your weapons-grade, cast-iron, copper-bottomed bell-end of a personality, the one that will always be so far beyond my comprehension that I have to look at it through the Hubble telescope has to be your capacity for self-delusion. Not once have I ever doubted that you honestly believe you’re doing a good and noble job. You’re the insane resus nurse who takes the pat on the back for saving the old man’s life despite the fact he was the mad prick who injected the air bubble into the IV line in the first place. You’re a preposterously deluded caricature of a man, a corporate ****heel juggling figures on a spreadsheet, unwilling and incapable of looking beyond them to see the human cost of your every ****bucket-useless decision.
It is beyond absurd that Theresa May is so utterly weak that you were able to talk her out of shuffling you out of your post. Quite how nobody has been able to wrench the staff from the palsied claws of the Skeksis Emperor at this point is baffling. Her night of the long knives was less of a cull than a series of hot stone massages for the bafflingly incompetent. She was like a hangman working with bungee cords, with the only borderline actual human in Justine Greening having the decency to at least step off the gallows after she’d undone her own noose. David Davis is still in, despite doing so little work preparing for Brexit that he’s singlehandedly responsible for the UK’s poor productivity rating. Then, under the buzz of the swarm of locusts heralding the return of Esther McAntichrist, Jeremy Hunt manages to talk himself into a promotion.
I don’t know which bubble Theresa May is living in, but it must be soundproof and there’s absolutely no way it’s tuned in to even the loudest and angriest thrumming of basic public opinion. Even the most adamant Conservative voter would be hard pressed to defend your managing of the NHS, which is probably best described as “casually pissing gasoline onto a raging bonfire.” Even if the grand Tory plan really is privatisation by the back door, you’ve been a total failure in achieving it subtly. So you’re either doing a terrible job of operating clandestinely or you’re doing a terrible job of… well, the actual job. You are an absolute ****ing fraud, Jeremy Hunt, and your complete lack of shame is as galling as it as abhorrent.
The NHS is not failing. It is being failed, on every level, by a government and a health minister that would rather see it die and harvest its organs for profit than supply it with the funding it so desperately needs. Even in the face of the most spectacular failures, with health professionals at every level calling you on your bullshit, we’re offered nothing but pathetic deflections. There can’t be a winter crisis because you’ve prepared for a crisis - so which is it? There can’t be a shortage of staff because you cherry-pick the figures so hamfistedly every Ralf Little and his dog can see right through them. Escalating privatisation is not your fault because Labour started it - so what, you’re allowed to kick the victim to death because you didn’t throw the first punch? Wouldn’t it be nice if we could actually admit that there’s a giant ****ing problem and that innocent people are dying when they shouldn’t have to, rather than just shouting “Trotsky!” and “but Venezuela!” when the Tories are called up on their bullshit?
You are a shameless, spineless, manipulative and wretched little creature, stretching those that have committed their lives to helping others in their most desperate moments to their absolute breaking point for nothing other than your own selfish ideological reasons. You’ll herald them as heroes whilst stripping them of the basic ability to function in their impossible roles, doffing your hypocrite’s cap to them as they leave the service in droves. Is the NHS going to struggle moving forwards in a society with an ever-ageing population? Of course it is. But its inefficiencies and failures now are not coincidental to years of Conservative policy. They are intrinsically connected to it, the safety nets stripped away, the incentives for new nurses and doctors burned or sold off to the lowest bidder.
And the most ridiculous lie of all? That starving the NHS of investment is a necessity, part of the burden of tightening our belts that we all have to bear. Never mind that a healthy workforce is a more productive one, that genuinely effective mental health provision would save the country money, or that expanding and improving both healthcare and research would actually create jobs. None of that matters, for no other reason than it doesn't fit the failed narrative of austerity.
You have no right to wear that NHS badge, Jeremy Hunt. You and your cronies are about as welcome on the frontline of a hospital as MRSA or a violent drunk in A&E. And there is not enough gauze in the underfunded stores of every hospital in the country to plug the yawning void in your chest where your sense of shame should be.
I see you, Jeremy Hunt. I ****ing see you.
