Arsington bloody arse, with an extra pint of arse for the weekend.
There was I, having awoken in a positive mood, enjoying my favourite breakfast of toast, butter, marmalade, butter, coffee, butter and a cigarette with extra butter, when up pops the health-fascist-of-the-week.
Some ‘leading heart surgeon’ has announced that butter should be banned, an issue that’s so pressing he has abandoned his search for an even vaguely convincing toupée.
Apparently only “radical action” can save growing numbers of young adults from heart attacks and clogged arteries.
Oh gosh, mate, are you sure banning butter is radical enough? Why not tackle the genetic causes of heart disease with eugenic extermination camps? What are you going to do when people start smuggling butter in from France? Jail them? Kill them? Will we need a War on Butter?
Maybe we need a pack of butter sniffer dogs? A heavily-armed Metropolitan Police butter squad? Butter rehabilitation programmes? And when banning butter is shown to have had precisely fuck all effect on the nation’s health will you do the decent thing and shoot yourself in the face with a service revolver, or will you decide that cheese, milk, red meat, and Curlywurlies will have to go too? What would it take for fascists like you to actually arsing well stop?
You know what the real problem is here? Heart surgery! It was always an accident waiting to happen.
You see, not everyone can get into medical school. And not everyone who gets into medical school can be a surgeon. And not every surgeon can make it in a tough discipline like DGH hepatobiliary surgery with an interest in blogging.
So some - generally those who lack the delicate touch to do orthopaedics or the personality to be urologists - end up in the sump of the surgeon’s art: cardiac. And the big problem with cardiac surgery is that it only really involves one and a half different operations, with the difficult bits like vein harvesting done by nurses.
So cardiac surgeons are all, quite simply, bored. And, as Shakespeare said, the devil makes work for bored hands.
Some try to take on different surgical operations which are actually difficult, with disastrous consequences.
Others go in search of other diversions. After a bit of digging I found this article. See what I lengths I go to in order to bring you the truth? I read articles in The Guardian by people called Felicity. I actually feel dirty now.
It would appear from the right royal kicking he’s getting in the Bolgosphere that not only is Mr Leading Heart Surgeon an authoritarian git who thinks he has a god-given right to tell me what I can and can’t eat for my own good, it turns out he knows less about the subject than I do.
And the reason his idiotic ideas have gained such a wide audience is because they were spread (har!) by the PR agency that works for big-assed multinational Unilever. And do you know what Unilever makes? I’ll give you a clue: it’s not butter.
Gosh what a great game! Take a groundless assertion, give it to a corporation who could profit from it and expect everyone to do as they’re told because you’re a self-styled ‘leading surgeon’.
Can I play? “Top Middle Bit of England surgeon says smoking is good for you and should be compulsory”. Has a nice ring to it. I’ll give Philip Morris a ring.
Tags: Humour