This column finds the occupant of the man cave in low spirits. Strutting my stuff in the gym about ten weeks ago, I overestimated my strength or underestimated the weight of a couple of kettlebells. Initially I thought I had hurt my back, so I paid a visit to the physio – paying a lot of money in the process – and had that seen to over several subsequent and equally expensive visits. In the process of diagnosing the back problem, the physiotherapist thought that I may have a hernia. I am not sure what led him to that conclusion, as there was nothing to see that looked like a hernia.
But it turns out he was right. He urged me to see my GP and, with an imminent two-week visit to Hong Kong and China, I tried to make an appointment for the week I returned. I could have made one for either of the weeks I was away – no good – but it was impossible to make one for three weeks hence, as that was ‘too far in advance’.
I arrived in Hong Kong a week after my injury. It is quite common to be a bit bloated after a long haul flight, but when I saw myself topless in the mirror I thought I was pregnant. Of course, these days when men can have babies, this is probably more common than we suppose. My stomach, especially on one side, had popped out and ‘felt funny’.
On return to Blighty I tried to make an appointment with my GP, but with imminent visits to Turkey and Greece with a week in between, that proved equally impossible. I finally got to see my GP ten weeks after the initial injury, and was immediately referred to a surgeon. I’m not looking for sympathy regarding my lump. I am looking for more outrage, every time one of our politicians refers to the NHS as the ‘jewel in the crown’ of our welfare state or speaks about the necessity to pour more money into it.
My family does have private health insurance, so I’ll not wait long for a consultation. It was, incidentally, only after I had been to see my GP that my wife informed me I could have had a private consultation with a GP (thanks dear). I like our GP however, and have known him for years. He asked me how I was and I said I had put a bit of weight on. Expecting a response along the lines of ‘well you look pretty good to me’ he said ‘you’re not kidding, let’s have you on the scales’.
Big fat zero
The outcome will remain between me and my GP but, aware of my tightening belt I had already half decided to do something about it. His merciless response turned my half decided to complete resolve. So, this has been a week completely without alcohol, no chocolate biscuits and a cautious return to the gym. Mrs Watson, to whom no announcement of my changed ways has been made, keeps asking me why I am looking so miserable. She doesn’t know the half of it. It is remarkable how early you can go to bed, bored out of your skull of an evening without the anaesthetising effects of half a bottle of wine and a few beers to put a smile on your face.
Speaking of big fat zeroes, I was listening to Yvette Cooper explaining to Nick Robinson on the BBC Radio 4 Today programme this week how tough the government was going to be on illegal migrants. Nick asked her how many illegal migrants had been deported and she tried to avoid the question, reiterating the government’s policy. Fair play to old Nick, who pushed her for a number. She said something along the lines of “Well Nick, we expect that the first illegal migrants will be deported by the end of the month.”
Watch this space. I hope I am wrong but I could probably safely bet my house on the fact that not a single illegal migrant will have left these shores by 30 September. Just like not a single hotel currently housing asylum seekers will be closed by the time Starmer and his Labour government have been booted out of office. It’s all hot air.
Our police are completely out of control
The repeated refusal of our police forces to stop recording non-crime hate incidents, despite being urged to by at least two Home Secretaries, the arrest of Lucy Connolly and so many others in the wake of the Southport killings and commenting on ‘Brexity’ books while searching the possessions of a pensioner, suggest that our police operate in a world of their own. They seem unaccountable to our government or to the communities they serve.
The arrest of comedy writer Graham Linehan on return to the UK this week, takes things to a new level. At whose behest were five armed officers – that is five and armed – sent to arrest a 57-year-old man in poor health for a comment on X which was, at the same time, reasonable and clearly in line with his profession as a comedy writer? Linehan suggested to women that if a man refused to get out of their safe space, and if all else fails, they ought to punch him. The Queen (King Charles’s wife, not the real queen who died in 2022) admitted that she had walloped a man in the nuts with a high-heeled shoe, yet she walks free despite admitting an act of violence.
Even Keir Starmer and his likely successor Wes Streeting have indicated that the police need to get their priorities right, which indicates that this was not done at their behest. It is hard to find the words to express just how angry all this makes people who have been burgled, stolen from or lost loved ones to knife crime.
When an Indian round the world motorcyclist who had his motorbike stolen in Nottingham – having already safely navigated Nepal, China, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Russia, Finland and Norway – can say that he feels safer in India, we have to know that we are in trouble. He has yet to see a police officer face-to-face.
As with Lucy Connolly, jailed for an allegedly offensive tweet, it is hard to see what could possibly be considered offensive or inciting violence about Graham Linehan’s posting on X. In fact, I would go one further and say that, if all else fails including punching a man trying to invade a safe space for women, then go and get a bloke and ask him to administer justice.
Good evening officer, how can I help you?
Roger Watson is a retired academic, editor and writer. He is a columnist with Unity News Network and writes regularly for a range of conservative journals including The Salisbury Review and The European Conservative. He has travelled and worked extensively in the Far East and the Middle East. He lives in Kingston upon Hull, UK.
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