Health Insuarnce and good health don't go together!

After the recent events, I have decided to go into things a little bit more deeply. With all the millions of milliardes of pounds,euros,$,(how many zeros is that?) and everything else that go into National or even Private/semi private Health systems, world wide, and which disappear just as rapidly, to be replaced by wining civil servants, complaining that they've got no money, I thought that it would be interesting to look at what happens to all this money.
That they haven't got any money is obvious, or they wouldn't have put me off for a week, just like I do when it comes to paying my water/phone/electricity bill.BUT why haven't they got any money?
I know that Christmas and New Year Parties make up a part of the "moral-boosters" for the poor over-worked administrators (and by that I don't mean the nurses, technicians,surgeons,cleaning-ladies, who don't have time to go to the parties, even if they are invited) but I do think that if they hold sumptous parties, they should have the decency to close down their ******* hospital for the 10 days following, giving time for most of the patients to kick it, and pass into the hands of the undertakers, where they will at least be spared the vagaries of "Hospital Reception", which over here is represented by hundred's of ONLY women, of all ages, shapes, sizes, all sitting behind their little PC's in a sort of box, waiting for you to tell them your name,age,sex, and everything else.Fat Woman 2Mrs Boys-Boys-almost in the flesh!
My one was a "robust" lady, called Madame BOY-BOY-according to the thing pinned on her chest.
She explained, proudly, that it was a name of Spanish origins, and I suggested that it may be more appropriate (in view of her multi-coloured outfit) to add an "S" to each "BOY", which should roughly estimate her weekly consommation. I felt inclined also, when she asked me my sex, to reply "BOYS-BOYS" but then, upon reflection, I estimated that this could lead to complications and possible misinterpretations, so I left it, and just muttered something about "yes-occasionally, but not with you".
The lady did not hear my mutterings, and continued to make her subtle advances, with questions like "age" etc. I was just working out some bright spontaneous replies for the questions "size"/"how often"/"what position prefered", when she abruptly said "OK- that's it - you can go and see the Professor now", to which I replied, like my mate Chippie, "But I'm not that sort of a boy, Mrs Boy-Boy"
Confused? Not as much as I was!
Anyway, that was my first (and probably last) contact with "Boysie" and her system of Hospital Administration. My little page of sticky labels (to put on your samples of all body liquids, and then some) clutched in my miserable little hands, I hurried away to see the much famed Professor.
That's the end of the beginning - I'll be coming back to the subject often, with photos, in the near future, because I've decided to make an issue of it!! I wonder if the Prof will take a photo of my heart - from the inside?
TBC.
Doctor






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