definitely improve the delivery of our public services. How will
this work in the Health Service, for example? To start with you'd find that Al
mini-cabs were now handling the ambulance calls.
'Hello - I've think I've had a heart attack!!
I've called three times in twenty minutes and they just keep saying the
ambulance is on its way'
'Oh yeah - well he pulled up outside and
tooted his horn but you never came out.'
'But please, I'm
desperate - get me to St Thomas's Hospital.'
'Nah - we're not
going south of the river this time of night. . .'
If
this patient survives and gets a heart transplant, his problems don't end
there. Because the job of delivering organs for transplant has been contracted
out to the pizza delivery drivers. 'If we don't deliver your new body part in
thirty minutes, you get a free bottle of Coca-Cola.' The trouble is that the
little organ delivery moped spends two hours buzzing up and down the road
trying to find the hospital and when it finally does arrive the surgeon
discovers they've brought the wrong order by mistake.
'Urn . . . Mr Jenkins, I know you wanted a
heart transplant and everything, but they've brought us a pancreas - would you
mind having a pancreas in there instead?'
'Yes I would!'
'Okay, what about a
bit of garlic bread?'
I call him a surgeon; in fact, he was until
recently working in the private sector as well, in the building trade to be
precise - another famous bastion of excellent service and efficiency.
'Oooh, well, I can do you a new heart if
that's what you really want, but you see, for a job like that, well, oooh,
you'd need an anaesthetist an' all and my one's on another job this week . . .'
'But if you don't put
a heart in soon I'll die.'
'Tell you what, I can
tie up the ventricles in the short term, stick in a central heating pump I've
got in the van, that should keep you alive until October. It's just that I'm
going out to Spain tomorrow to do up my new villa and this afternoon I'm
finishing off a kidney transplant that I've been promising to stitch up since
Christmas . . .'
What you don't get in the private sector is
goodwill, but no one ever includes this in the equation when they're working
out how much money they think can be saved by bringing in British American
Tobacco to run the local infant school. In fact, the amount of cash being saved
is relatively tiny - and it's simply not worth the demoralization that it is
causing to workers in the public sector. There really ought to be a public
inquiry about the whole issue; the trouble is, you couldn't have a public
inquiry any more - it would have to be a public-private inquiry, and the first
two years would be spent finding a suitable sponsor from the business
community. Finally they would announce that, with private investment from
Foto-Kwik, 'the happy snaps people', the public-private inquiry has at last
been delivered.
'What does it say?
What does it say?'
'Oh no, this isn't our inquiry - they've sent
us someone else's by mistake.'
Welcome
to England: smacking area - 200 yards
8
September 2001
Under
proposals unveiled this week, Scotland is set to make the smacking of young
children illegal for the first time in the UK. Dinner time in East Lothian will
never be the same.
'I'm not eating my
vegetables - they've got black bits on.'
'DO YOU WANT ME TO DRIVE YOU OVER THE BORDER
AND GIVE YOU A SMACK?'
They'll
have to build a special lay-by on the outskirts of Berwick-upon-Tweed with a
sign saying 'Welcome to England: smacking area - 200 yards'. Little stalls will
spring up selling Brussels sprouts and broccoli and stationery for writing
thank-you letters for Auntie's birthday present.
The plan is to ban the smacking of children
under three, so now instead of saying, 'Wait till your father gets home,'
toddlers will be told, 'Just you wait until your third birthday.' But the
proposals have received a surprisingly positive response in the tough estates
of Glasgow. In response to the question, 'Do you
this work in the Health Service, for example? To start with you'd find that Al
mini-cabs were now handling the ambulance calls.
'Hello - I've think I've had a heart attack!!
I've called three times in twenty minutes and they just keep saying the
ambulance is on its way'
'Oh yeah - well he pulled up outside and
tooted his horn but you never came out.'
'But please, I'm
desperate - get me to St Thomas's Hospital.'
'Nah - we're not
going south of the river this time of night. . .'
If
this patient survives and gets a heart transplant, his problems don't end
there. Because the job of delivering organs for transplant has been contracted
out to the pizza delivery drivers. 'If we don't deliver your new body part in
thirty minutes, you get a free bottle of Coca-Cola.' The trouble is that the
little organ delivery moped spends two hours buzzing up and down the road
trying to find the hospital and when it finally does arrive the surgeon
discovers they've brought the wrong order by mistake.
'Urn . . . Mr Jenkins, I know you wanted a
heart transplant and everything, but they've brought us a pancreas - would you
mind having a pancreas in there instead?'
'Yes I would!'
'Okay, what about a
bit of garlic bread?'
I call him a surgeon; in fact, he was until
recently working in the private sector as well, in the building trade to be
precise - another famous bastion of excellent service and efficiency.
'Oooh, well, I can do you a new heart if
that's what you really want, but you see, for a job like that, well, oooh,
you'd need an anaesthetist an' all and my one's on another job this week . . .'
'But if you don't put
a heart in soon I'll die.'
'Tell you what, I can
tie up the ventricles in the short term, stick in a central heating pump I've
got in the van, that should keep you alive until October. It's just that I'm
going out to Spain tomorrow to do up my new villa and this afternoon I'm
finishing off a kidney transplant that I've been promising to stitch up since
Christmas . . .'
What you don't get in the private sector is
goodwill, but no one ever includes this in the equation when they're working
out how much money they think can be saved by bringing in British American
Tobacco to run the local infant school. In fact, the amount of cash being saved
is relatively tiny - and it's simply not worth the demoralization that it is
causing to workers in the public sector. There really ought to be a public
inquiry about the whole issue; the trouble is, you couldn't have a public
inquiry any more - it would have to be a public-private inquiry, and the first
two years would be spent finding a suitable sponsor from the business
community. Finally they would announce that, with private investment from
Foto-Kwik, 'the happy snaps people', the public-private inquiry has at last
been delivered.
'What does it say?
What does it say?'
'Oh no, this isn't our inquiry - they've sent
us someone else's by mistake.'
Welcome
to England: smacking area - 200 yards
8
September 2001
Under
proposals unveiled this week, Scotland is set to make the smacking of young
children illegal for the first time in the UK. Dinner time in East Lothian will
never be the same.
'I'm not eating my
vegetables - they've got black bits on.'
'DO YOU WANT ME TO DRIVE YOU OVER THE BORDER
AND GIVE YOU A SMACK?'
They'll
have to build a special lay-by on the outskirts of Berwick-upon-Tweed with a
sign saying 'Welcome to England: smacking area - 200 yards'. Little stalls will
spring up selling Brussels sprouts and broccoli and stationery for writing
thank-you letters for Auntie's birthday present.
The plan is to ban the smacking of children
under three, so now instead of saying, 'Wait till your father gets home,'
toddlers will be told, 'Just you wait until your third birthday.' But the
proposals have received a surprisingly positive response in the tough estates
of Glasgow. In response to the question, 'Do you
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