December 18, 2017

:

The real costs of NHS contracting out -

Sunday, November 26, 2017

The Magic Money Tree -

Saturday, November 4, 2017

The Housing Wonderland by Ian Lewis -

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Will STPs finally wreck the NHS? -

Sunday, June 18, 2017

STPs – A new way to wreck the NHS -

Friday, February 17, 2017

Live At Tottenham Chance

THE PENCIL TEST

Sportsman and entertainers,

Opened their hands,

Closed their eyes,

And took Krugerrands.

 

Under apartheid,

There was black,

And white and,

14 types of coloured,

And, to be seen,

To be correct,

The authorities

Could the 14 reject,

And a fifteenth,

Select.

 

Like Mendel,

And his peas,

Recessive genes,

Caused the sight

Of the sleight,

Change of colour,

In children,

No longer white.

 

Sometimes,

The authorities,

Couldn’t be sure,

If a child was pure,

So inspectors went,

Into the schools,

Followed the rules,

And with great care,

Placed a pencil in the hair,

And a child’s colour,

Would rest,

On the pencil test.

 

When the head was shook,

There was a look,

Of relief,

Physical and mental,

When the pencil,

Fell to the floor,

The child was white,

 

If the hair was crinkly,

And thick,

The pencil was passed,

Like a stick

Through the hair,

From front to back,

And if the pencil stalled,

The verdict called,

Was black,

 

What colour the parents,

Were hardly mattered,

For with the child,

Reclassified,

The family scattered,

To a new area,

To search,

A new school,

A new church,

And also there were,

Kids left,

Alone and bereft.

 

Political apartheid has ended,

But South Africa’s,

Not mended,

For black, coloured & white

Still live apart,

So a new start,

Is needed,

Too remove the pain,

And finally end,

Apartheid’s reign.

REQUIEM FOR THE NHS

 The Tories,

And the quacks,

Hated Nye Bevan,

But he created,

The NHS,

For everyone,

Rich or poor,

And Free,

At the point,

Of delivery

 

Now the NHS,

Beloved by the nation,

Has reached its,

Final destination,

Pensioned off,

At 65,

Privatised,

Under the guise,

Of contracting out,

Cut to pieces,

All the parts,

The entrails too,

Disembowelled,

And devoured,

By the insatiable greed,

Needed to feed,

The financial contagion,

Of Banks,

Investment banks,

Merchant banks

Shadow banks,

Hedge funds,

Vulture funds,

And the whole stinking edifice,

That is PFI.

The Private Finance Initiative.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon this will be,

Cast in stone,

For the new,

EU/US free trade treaty,

Legalises financial liberalisation,

And regulatory harmonisation,

Which in simple parlance,

Means the tax avoiding,

Bonus addicted,

Psychopaths,

Can legally plunder,

And wreck asunder,

The NHS,

For billions,

Each and every year.

 

The Labour Party,

The New Labour Party,

Is like the Tories.

Part of the political class,

The elite,

The establishment

That Bevan would,

Never have recognised,

He would have found it,

Surreal and absurd

And in Shelly’s words,

Ye are many,

They are few,

And it is time the 99%,

Withdrew their consent,

And say enough

Is enough,

And if Bevan was alive today,

He urge us all,

To stand up,

And fight,

To save the NHS.

 


 

Comments
2 Responses to “Live At Tottenham Chance”
  1. Beryl says:

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