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Look, I don’t wake up every morning thinking “Grrr, that Tony Blair, he’s a one”. He doesn’t haunt my every waking minute, nor do I think he’s actually evil*. And I know a Tory PM would inflict even more damage. It’s just that... nnnngh... the insane denial of it all... arrrgh... his matey sanctimony... chhhhnyyeeeurch... I... pfffff.
Actually, Worthing hospital faces complete closure, a prospect that leaked out after a local estate agent was rung up by a contractor asking them confidentially to value the site and estimate the probability of local opposition to various kinds of development on it. Their estimate of the latter was “a lot”, and they promptly informed the local paper. It’s exactly this kind of public-spirited whistleblowing that Tony's regime has been so keen to eradicate.
Five years ago Worthing hospital was awarded three stars. This meant it was a very good hospital. Because it had three stars, it obviously had very good procedures. Under Government rules, that meant the hospital had to start sending its staff to other hospitals in the region to show them how they too could have good procedures. Before long Worthing hospital’s own procedures started to suffer, as so many staff had to be sent to other hospitals.
The following year’s inspection was carried out secretly, with no notice, on one day. It caught the hospital during a particularly bad staffing shortage, and Worthing hospital had one of its stars taken away. That meant it was suddenly a less good hospital. Under complex management logic, having a star taken away means a hospital gets less money—because, obviously, if you are a patient in a two-star hospital, you deserve less treatment than if you were in a three-star hospital.
If they suddenly find themselves in a two-star institution, patients, as Patricia Hewitt said, can “vote with their feet”. That might seem an inapposite phrase to describe elderly and infirm patients being forced to find treatment far from home, but it’s appropriate enough, as she herself seems to have been legislating with her arse. Apparently those who can’t be treated at home should exercise their patient choice, jump in a taxi and find a nearby three-star centre-of-excellence hospital instead, or maybe take a train, or whatever it was we used to do before I became Minister and we got given Godfrey, honestly, he’s a treasure, I don’t know what we’d do without him, everyone should have their own driver, don’t you think?
Now there's a good chance the hospital may close altogether, along with its sister hospital in Shoreham, the next town to the east (5). Some might see a downside to the loss of a load of healthcare in one area, especially where the population is particularly elderly—but watch our modest elected representatives try and sell it to us as a victory for progress. A difficult decision, yes, but all for our own good! After all, there was no A&E unit for Jesus to attend at Golgotha, was there? Yet he still rolled out all our deliverables!
The mayor of Worthing wrote to No. 10 to ask that his hospital please not be closed down. It wasn’t necessarily a very good letter; its entire first paragraph was a slow build-up to his main point, rather than an immediate attempt to catch some Blairite wonk’s eye with the usual diseased, unreadable Teflon babblage (“Dear Mr Blair, GOLD-PLATED FRAMEWORK PROVIDER RESOURCE IMPACT OUTCOMES! Please don’t close our fucking hospital”). Consequently, thanks to whichever civil service numpty ended up opening the envelope, this happened:
Bloody stakeholders, trying to consult back.
It’s conceivable that the potential closure of the hospital is being publicly touted so an eventual announcement that it will “only” be losing its A&E department will be greeted with cries of relief from Worthing residents. If that is the case, it’s a greasy and predictable con: float the worst case, then reel it back in and switch it for your actual, less dreadful—though still measurably shit—intentions. It’s a technique, if not invented, then certainly developed and refined by this administration, and it has certainly proved to be a tonic for the widespread public cynicism and distrust that Tony so often complains about.
* Subject to change“You bastard, you pranged my car.” “I do not know about the specific circumstances of the hon. Gentleman’s car. However, I am sure that if I could be arsed to find out, I would discover that I have spent far more money on car maintenance than he has. He is therefore in no position to challenge me on the question of damage to his car.” Et, oh God, c.
Mr. Nick Gibb (Bognor Regis and Littlehampton) (Con): Can the Prime Minister explain to my constituents why they face the prospect of the downgrading of the accident and emergency unit at St. Richard’s hospital in Chichester (1) and the downgrading of the A and E unit at Worthing hospital (2), why Littlehampton hospital (3) is a pile of rubble, with the rebuilding programme on hold, and why the Richard Hotham mental health unit in Bognor Regis war memorial hospital (4) is to close just five years after it opened?
The Prime Minister: I do not know about the specific circumstances of the hon. Gentleman’s constituency. However, I have no doubt that if I do look at the specific circumstances, I will find that there has been massive investment in health care services in his constituency, all of which was opposed by him and his colleagues, that waiting lists are down, and that cancer and cardiac treatment is better. Yes, it is true that difficult decisions have to be taken in all constituencies as to how we configure health care for today’s world, but those decisions need to be taken no matter how much money is put in. It is absurd for Conservatives to complain about funding in the health service when they voted against the very funding that we put in.
Actually, Worthing hospital faces complete closure, a prospect that leaked out after a local estate agent was rung up by a contractor asking them confidentially to value the site and estimate the probability of local opposition to various kinds of development on it. Their estimate of the latter was “a lot”, and they promptly informed the local paper. It’s exactly this kind of public-spirited whistleblowing that Tony's regime has been so keen to eradicate.
Five years ago Worthing hospital was awarded three stars. This meant it was a very good hospital. Because it had three stars, it obviously had very good procedures. Under Government rules, that meant the hospital had to start sending its staff to other hospitals in the region to show them how they too could have good procedures. Before long Worthing hospital’s own procedures started to suffer, as so many staff had to be sent to other hospitals. The following year’s inspection was carried out secretly, with no notice, on one day. It caught the hospital during a particularly bad staffing shortage, and Worthing hospital had one of its stars taken away. That meant it was suddenly a less good hospital. Under complex management logic, having a star taken away means a hospital gets less money—because, obviously, if you are a patient in a two-star hospital, you deserve less treatment than if you were in a three-star hospital.
If they suddenly find themselves in a two-star institution, patients, as Patricia Hewitt said, can “vote with their feet”. That might seem an inapposite phrase to describe elderly and infirm patients being forced to find treatment far from home, but it’s appropriate enough, as she herself seems to have been legislating with her arse. Apparently those who can’t be treated at home should exercise their patient choice, jump in a taxi and find a nearby three-star centre-of-excellence hospital instead, or maybe take a train, or whatever it was we used to do before I became Minister and we got given Godfrey, honestly, he’s a treasure, I don’t know what we’d do without him, everyone should have their own driver, don’t you think?
Now there's a good chance the hospital may close altogether, along with its sister hospital in Shoreham, the next town to the east (5). Some might see a downside to the loss of a load of healthcare in one area, especially where the population is particularly elderly—but watch our modest elected representatives try and sell it to us as a victory for progress. A difficult decision, yes, but all for our own good! After all, there was no A&E unit for Jesus to attend at Golgotha, was there? Yet he still rolled out all our deliverables!
The mayor of Worthing wrote to No. 10 to ask that his hospital please not be closed down. It wasn’t necessarily a very good letter; its entire first paragraph was a slow build-up to his main point, rather than an immediate attempt to catch some Blairite wonk’s eye with the usual diseased, unreadable Teflon babblage (“Dear Mr Blair, GOLD-PLATED FRAMEWORK PROVIDER RESOURCE IMPACT OUTCOMES! Please don’t close our fucking hospital”). Consequently, thanks to whichever civil service numpty ended up opening the envelope, this happened:
Bloody stakeholders, trying to consult back.
It’s conceivable that the potential closure of the hospital is being publicly touted so an eventual announcement that it will “only” be losing its A&E department will be greeted with cries of relief from Worthing residents. If that is the case, it’s a greasy and predictable con: float the worst case, then reel it back in and switch it for your actual, less dreadful—though still measurably shit—intentions. It’s a technique, if not invented, then certainly developed and refined by this administration, and it has certainly proved to be a tonic for the widespread public cynicism and distrust that Tony so often complains about.
