Aneurin, Where You At, Böi?

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Anger is not the exclusive province of youth. I am now sixty-six, not an age I ever thought I would reach, but there you go; but I am angrier now than I have ever been before in my life; at the injustice, perfidy and downright stupidity that prevails in the running of the world today by the self-serving incompetents and their idiot acolytes who we seem to have allowed by some variant of the democratic process to actually be in charge of it all.

Vaccination, as I remember it as a child of the NHS, growing up in the afterglow of the creation of that, the greatest innovation by mankind in history, nonpareil; was a thing we had as a matter of course; administered by our GP, locally. So far in the current Boris Big Gesture Jab Rollout, we seem to have a number of Boris Big Gesture Vax Centres where people are queuing, non-socially-distanced around the block for hours to *maybe* get a needle stuck in their arm.

Whatever happened to the notion of distributed, local care and expertise? Why does it always have to be 'big stuff' all the time? We used to have a health service that worked for the people it served when and where they needed it: I had just two GP's before I left Birmingham at the age of twenty-five: Dr. Hickman, who looked after my family from my birth until his retirement; and Dr. Simpson who took over his practice thereafter. All of my inoculations were taken care of by Dr. Hickman, no one else. It would be so much simpler to provide all local surgeries and clinics with sufficient doses of vaccine for the catchment covered by them: that is if the vaccine actually exists in the quantities that the Government claims to be the case.

If the distribution of the vaccines has been farmed out to a firm of accountants/outsourcers who happen to be mates of Boris or someone in the cabinet; like so much else in this bollock-brained affair has already, then we are probably doomed to letting the disease loose to do as it pleases. God help us all.

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