Nelson's Column, Bolg, Blog, whatever...

No such thing as fair when it comes to the GMC

Fair?…I’ll give them ****ing fair!

You may have seen that the GM sodding C are carrying out a survey to see if we think they’re ‘fair’. It will come as no surprise to you, given their completely unjustified harassment of yours truly, that they haven’t asked for my opinion. Well – here it is. They are an unmitigated bunch of tossers with no sense of humour (no sense at all, really) and with no concept of what it’s like to be working at the sharp end of an acute specialty surrounded by tits like Johnson, the dweeb urologist, Dan the FG and managers with the collective IQ of a    …

The litany of ‘offences’ they used to persecute me all centred on incidents which, while they may well have happened, were entirely excusable. At least, they would be excused by any organization that wasn’t so far up itself it can’t see beyond its next bloody ‘consultation exercise’.

Take the business with Prof  Jones, the chair of the merit award committee. I applied to him for a national award for five years on the trot. The result? Zilch. And yet they throw money at plonkers like Johnson, just because they get themselves on every committee going and they never come to work pissed.

Who does (did) all the work anyway? My registrars, that’s who, and if I didn’t appoint hard-working and easily-cowed juniors, the trust’s targets would be down the swanee. So the Prof can be grateful that the worst that happened was a bit of damage to his bloody lawn. Oh, and the labrador – but it was fat and old, so I saved him a load on vet’s bills. Arse.

And talking of arses, the trust CEO may well have parked his car ‘legally’, but I see no reason why he should have his own reserved space right outside his office when the rest of us have to run the gauntlet of the great unwashed in the staff multi-storey. Consultants shouldn’t have to park cheek by jowl with porters and nurses in their manky little Fiestas and clapped-out Skodas.

The towing company were making a political statement – one which should be just as welcome to all those whingeing union reps and other lefty scumbags who think the NHS exists for them as it was to my consultant ‘colleagues’ (and where were they when the shit hit the fan?). Admittedly, it was unfortunate that Lenny forgot to disengage the clutch when getting the car on to the low-loader, but a bit of damage to a gearbox is no problem for someone on his inflated salary.

Then there’s the nonsense about the Medical Director’s car. Look – anyone who drives an arseing electric car has to expect a bit of good-natured ribbing from time to time. The weather had been dry, and reversing out of the flowerbed wouldn’t have been a problem if he had been driving a decent car instead of that nancy-boy piece of underpowered Japanese technocrap. In the circumstances, I think that Lenny’s £500 fee for towing him out was not unreasonable, and the four hour delay was due to the fact that he was busy with the CEO’s motor (qv).

As for the golf practice on the roof – guilty as charged, but I was only trying to comply with occy health’s exhortation for staff to take more exercise during the working day. And when it comes to my comments to midwives and infection control staff, words fail me. I challenge anyone to take a look at these people before disagreeing with my assessment of their physical attractiveness. As for their utility – ask anyone unfortunate enough still to be working in the NHS.

I also resent the implicit (well, explicit, actually) suggestion that many of these so-called transgressions were alcohol-fuelled. I may well have been drinking when I took that little power nap over the operating table, but as I may have said previously in this column, operating is a bit like driving, in that a judicious glass or two can enhance performance.

And any ‘human tissue’ removed from the theatre was surplus to the patient’s requirements – that’s what surgery is all about – relieving patients of stuff that is no longer of any use to them. Admittedly, the piece that I found hanging from my mask when I woke up could, under more favourable circumstances, have been re-attached, but the punter came to no harm. That’s why we have two of most things.

And none of this affected my suitability to practise, yet the buggers still suspended my registration. Well, the joke’s on them, because I’m doing very nicely now, thank you very much, and I have no intention of applying to go back on the register when my suspension expires at 11.13am on Tuesday 7 March in 2020.

Ace appointment!

Looks like I’ve taken up most of my space with the above, so not time for any medical news this month, but I had to welcome this development. At last! – the government is acting like a proper Tory administration, despite the efforts of the piss-poor Libdems to rein them in. Dismantling the NHS and appointing Simon Stevens to sell off the remains to his chums in the States is a masterstroke.

I think me and Lenny might need to give some thought to diversifying back into healthcare, now that the pickings look so easy. General practice, now – that should be a doddle. Just get a nice office suite and a cheap East European medic. In fact, if we get two docs, we could offer a 24/7 service. That should satisfy the focus groups.

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