Sock Free Hideaway

BEATS OF LOVE

147. How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead   

I HAVE something in common with Farage. A bad experience with the NHS. 

Unable to afford Harley Street like him, instead waiting during six months of misdiagnosis before getting referred to a private clinic. Despite knowing I was ill. Arriving at the hospital before my notes, they informed me there'd be a morphine drip by my bed. There wasn't. Then a further six months' wait to discover that my testicular cancer wasn't life threatening. 

Some time later, a specialist at Christies told me I was susceptible to cancer, so better quit smoking. I did, unlike Farage whose still adamant in public that the doctors have it wrong. After five years of follow-ups, finally getting the all clear was a great experience with the NHS. Again, unlike Farage, who hasn't forgiven the NHS and Indian doctors for misdiagnosing in the early stages, I still feel a deep gratitude. 

Hitherto, I had always wanted to be born earlier, but thank God I wasn't. Prior to the early seventies, mortality rates were high, but now. Worth noting, because Farage has angrily peddled this myth about the NHS nearly costing him his life. Using public ignorance to create a headline out of a non-story.

A familiar pattern emerges; folk who didn't know the survival rate is over 90% probably think stopping a few dinghies and a few thousand people from building a life here will make everything great again. Convinced wrongly again that there has ever been a point in history when the working poor ever felt great. Farage exploits all ignorance, controlling the political temperature with falsehoods.

Like his idea of deregulation won't lead to working in poorer conditions for worse pay and longer hours, or replacing an irreparable NHS with a fairer model for us all won't cause controversy and death.