Itisi

The nebulous ramblings; grammatical & punctuational experiments of a girl born on the fifth of November

Category: opinion

On fish, Jan Moir, superheroes and jammy spoons

Often, if I see subjects I’d like to mention here, I make little notes to refresh my memory when the time comes to write the post. This week I did that, and while most of my scrawlings still make sense, I’m blowed if I know why I jotted down the words ‘jammy spoon’. I’ve been racking my brain all afternoon and I still can’t figure out why I thought you needed to know about such a thing. So, sorry, no jammy spoons for you. However, you do get this:

- From Monday, your blogger will be donning her editorial hat over at eggnchips, so pop over and have a read …. and make sure you subscribe because I want to make a good impression! In fact, you could go further and send (bribes) gifts to the owner in the form of money, expensive watches, cake … especially cake, everyone can be bribed by cake. OK, the cake thing might just be me, but I do hope to see you there!

- I really enjoyed this post from Jo over at Slummy Single Mummy rebutting yet another spite-filled rant from Jan Moir.

In case you didn’t know, Jan now has the right to say pretty much anything she likes, about anyone she likes, as long as she dresses it up as opinion. Hmm. Using the logic of the PPC, I’m awfully tempted to share my opinion of Jan, but that would include such words as ‘bitter, twisted professional bully whose only talent is to be obnoxious’, which would be unkind, so I won’t.

- The Guardian are asking people who their favourite superhero is. Disappointingly,  the poll is a bit small, you can only choose Superman or Batman, both of whom are obviously inferior to Spiderman. Spiderman is, in my opinion, the superhero of choice for all creative geeks. But if you think differently let me know in the comments :-)

- Last night on The Bubble, David Mitchell mentioned an upsetting experience he had with tropical fish. I never thought I’d blog these words, but here goes:  I had an even more distressing experience with tropical fish. Well, not just me, it was a trauma the whole family could share, every time we sat down to watch television.

When we first moved here, we rented a house which came equipped with a tank full of tropical fish. Unfortunately, the previous tenants hadn’t looked after the original fish very well, so the estate agent had restocked the tank. Even more unfortunately, he didn’t know much about fish and brought the wrong sort. In amongst all the pretty, glittery ones, he’d added two big, black shark-like things that proceeded to systematically eat every other fish in the tank. The tank was above the television – yes, I thought that was a bad idea too – so every time we tried to watch a programme, we were transfixed by scenes of fishicide.

It was really, really awful. I’m not joking. It’s very hard to explain to a small child why delightful, little creatures are being torn fin from fin only feet away from the Teletubbies.  And the problem with badly behaved fish is you can’t do much about them – it’s not as if you can build them a kennel or take them to training classes. Instead, I resorted to shouting, ‘No! No! Please stop eating your friends!’, but they didn’t listen.

Anyhoo, eventually all the pretty, little fish were gone, and we were left with their murderers. This was even more disturbing because they developed a habit of coming to the front of the tank and giving us this look, a look that said, ‘one day we’ll get out of here, then you’ll be on the menu’. Just after that we moved.

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The NHS? It’s what Christ would do

In common with a lot of people in the UK, I’ve been watching the US healthcare debate with mounting bewilderment and indignation, particularly because of the allegations being made about the UK National Health Service (NHS). Over the last week or so, I’ve seen ever more bizarre claims being made about it’s inadequacies, which bear absolutely no resemblance to the system I’ve used all my life. No, it’s not perfect. It’s an enormous organisation run entirely by human beings, and human beings are fallible. However, for the overwhelming majority of people it works. It’s there when we need it; we can visit a doctor, or attend A&E knowing the first question we’ll be asked is ‘what are your symptoms’, not ‘how are you going to pay’.

One of the positive outcomes of all this crazy talk (from people who seem to have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo) is that we Brits have, for once, appreciated just how lucky we are. Yes, we are a nation of whingebags, we like to complain, and complaining about the NHS is right up there with complaining about the weather as one of our favourite national pastimes. However, it’s a bit different when we hear criticism coming from other quarters. That, we don’t like. We might take our health service for granted; we might moan about car parking, cold dinners, rude doctors, but that doesn’t mean anyone else can. As the #welovethenhs threads on twitter show, for the vast majority of people in the UK, the NHS is an important, and fundamental part of our society, one we hold deep admiration and respect for.

At a time when we hear so much about the breakdown of society, it was heartening to see so many people uniting behind a cause that benefits the country as a whole. And surely this unity should send a message to NHS critics across the pond. Shouldn’t they be asking themselves why we hold it in such high esteem if it’s as inadequate and evil as they say? You’d think so, but they won’t, because their response is that we’ve all been brainwashed by a socialist plot. Oh yes, Dear Reader, I am merely a spokeswoman of a Stalinist regime. (This is where I do something I rarely do on this blog, I’m going to swear, in English: To paraphrase Jim Royle – Stalinist plot, my arse!)

It’s easy to see why some people might believe the NHS is socialist; it epitomises Marx’s ideal of  “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need”. But, as anyone with a grasp of British history will know, the NHS (and the labour movement) has it’s roots in good, old-fashioned Christianity. Forget anything Palin the Peabrain and her band of malodorous  minions have told you, the NHS is not an evil, communist brigade who kill people’s grannies, it actually grew out of a long European tradition of religious orders providing healthcare to the poor – which meant pretty much anyone who wasn’t a king or aristocrat. The reason so many British and French hospitals are named after saints, is because they were originally adjunct to monasteries, whose monks tried to emulate the healing work of Christ by providing what passed for medical treatment at the time.

If you are a Christian, you might be familiar with this Christ chappie, and you’ll know that when He wasn’t walking on water or organising large picnics, He healed the sick. At no point during the healing process did He stick out His hand and ask for 30 pieces of silver. That wasn’t His style. He believed He had an ability and it was right for Him to to use it as it was needed. That’s how the NHS works. Collectively we all fund it, assuming we’ll rarely need it, but knowing it will be there when we do. And in the meantime, other people who do need it get the care they deserve as fellow human beings. We do this because we can, and because it’s the right thing to do. I think Christ would approve.

Updated to add: For an amusing video on the topic above, go here. With thanks to Chairman Bill :-)

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