What’s longer than an A&E trolley wait but completely devoid of its, critical, life-threatening danger? A question from Jeremy Corbyn at Prime Minister’s Questions, of course. The Labour leader seemed to shock himself as he began with a snappy scalpel of inquiry, attacking the PM for “under-funding” our-best-in-the-world-envy-of-the-world-we-love-it-Our-Our-Our NHS (peace be upon it, God bless the staff, hallowed be its name, check out my lapel badge). It didn’t last: Jezza soon slipped back into windbag mode.
Worse yet, so afflicted is he with senility that he literally forgot to sit down. Last week, you’ll remember this column helpfully reminded Jezza that he was forgetting to ask any questions. He listened – now it’s just the sitting-down-afterwards part that’s slipping his mind. Come on Jezza, you’re half way there – just get fatty Watson to give you a good kick in the shins when it’s time to stop!
On Our NHS (peace be upon it) May once again deployed the ‘it’s worse in Wales’ defence – which is at least plausible. After all, everyone agrees that everything is worse in Wales. The weather, educational outcomes, animal sex crimes: pop over there and it’s worse on all counts, it’s a s*ithole country, one might say. They’re not joking when they say the best thing to come out of Wales is the road to England. May – true to form – has stuck like a snowbound ambulance to It’s Worse in Wales zinger for the entire winter. If she’s right surely we can soon expect English hospitals will be packed with Welsh health tourists. “CARDIFF WOMAN HAS TEN KIDS IN LONDON”. Brief it out.
Put a hold on proceedings: we all need to hear about the Prime Minister’s smear test. This is so 2018, so PMQs. What could be more dignified, nay, more becoming, than this most lady-like woman, whose entire shtick is tea-lady at the vicarage, declaring her status as smear test fangirl to the nation. Next week, tune in for Jezza’s prostrate exam – that’s if the appointment hasn’t been cancelled.
By the look of lan Blackford the cuts are yet to bite on the SNP Burns Night budget. Then Damian Green popped up, now on the backbenches. Without a touch of shame, he lapped up the sparse cheers of his colleagues. His boring question about a bridge in Essex was laced with his visible thrill of survival. How do they just keep bashing away at it like nothing has changed? It’s enough to make you choke.
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