Skull smoking

It is reported that people who are overweight or drink or smoke save the government money because the tobacco and alcohol taxes they pay plus the pensions saved owing to their shorter lives far exceed the cost of their medical treatment.

It had been thought that it was good,
To stay as healthy as we could,
And this was helped by staying thin,
Not smoking and not drinking gin.

So governments tried to persuade,
Us to drink only lemonade,
To stay thin, therefore not much Coke,
And definitely not to smoke.

But consequences then arose,
Because if we avoid all those
Bad things which might be thought a sin,
Not so much tax comes rolling in.

And then to make things even worse,
The late arrival of our hearse,
Means we will need our pension for,
Much longer than it was before.

And during this late lease of life,
Senility will be so rife,
That we will all need constant care –
More cost for someone else to bear.

This cannot work, you must agree,
The government’s no cash you see;
The situation’s not robust,
And so we’ll likely all go bust.

The answer, though, is pretty plain,
The government must yet again,
Review the advice that it gives,
Concerning how we all should live.

So they’ll say what we have to do,
Is smoke and drink and party too,
So that we all get big and fat,
And pop our clogs by fifty flat!


Care home

It is reported that the plan in the Conservative Party manifesto to deal with old-age care has gone down very badly and is being portrayed as the ‘dementia tax’.

You will have seen that Mrs May’s,
Been criticised for several days,
For saying wealthy people should,
Pay for old-age care if they could.

The plan is they will have to pay,
The full cost of their care ’til they,
Find hundred k is all they’ve got,
And after that they keep the lot.

Opponents say this is unfair,
Both rich and poor have need of care,
And with this plan we have now got,
It might mean rich folk pay a lot.

It seems a little odd to me,
That Labour quite remarkably,
Are standing up for rich folk who,
Are really fairly well-to-do.

For poorer people who don’t own,
The property they call their home,
And who just rent their roof and wall,
Will likely not pay owt at all.

And richer folk who’ll have this debt,
Won’t need to sell their house just yet,
And quite a while their time may bide,
Then settle up when they have died.

But I don’t know why people moan,
About the proceeds of their home,
The best time to be taxed, it’s said,
Is when your well and truly dead!

Image – CQC press Office / Flickr



It is reported that Jeremy Corbyn told an audience of nurses in Liverpool that sixty-eight is too late for a retirement age.

Now Corbyn’s in the news once more,
And could have a surprise in store,
For though his words are rather clipt,
He deviates from Labour’s script.

Perhaps most times this matters not,
For their script is not all that hot,
But just occasionally it might,
Seem he’s not got his views quite right.

The problem that this time arose,
Was Corbyn was addressing those,
Who work in nursing – NHS –
And had some gripe as you might guess.

One man stood up, addressed him thus:
“I work here so to earn a crust,
But for my pension I must wait,
Until the age of sixty-eight.”

The Leader stood, he looked around,
For Labour this was solid ground;
He coughed a bit, looked quite benign,
Then answered him though not in rhyme.

“The Government,” he said quite bold,
“About this scandal should be told,
For everyone should now retire,
Before they’re sixty-eight, no higher.

So if I am PM quite soon,
By which I mean the ninth of June,
This policy I will enact,
For every kind of job in fact.”

But Mr C, it seems, forgot,
Exactly when he’d been begot,
Because before the end of May,
He’ll have his sixty-eighth birthday.

So if he wins then this could be,
The shortest premiership that we,
Have seen – it could be just one day –
Before he goes on pension pay!

With apologies to The Beatles (for the title)

Image – Gary Knight London


South Western Ambulance VX09FYP

It is reported that the NHS has been reinforcing its ambulances to be able to accommodate overweight patients of up to seventy stone.

The NHS is under strain,
As it spends time in curing pain,
And something that has come to light,
Is one problem that’s not so slight,
And likely could now cause a spat –
Its patients are all getting fat.

So first, it’s difficult to talk,
About those who can barely walk,
For zealots all for sure will be,
Insisting everything’s PC.

But paramedics say that they,
Have difficulties every day,
Lifting these patients who are fat,
And also then their tyres go flat.

Now one solution’s been devised,
To cope with all these oversized,
Which is, pragmatically of course,
To ambulances reinforce.

They’re getting girders, bolts and beams,
Plus extra welding at the seams,
Some heavier and thicker wires,
And higher pressure in the tyres.

All this is working out just fine,
For overweights now quite benign,
And so these people all should know,
To hospital they can now go,
But even if they get the chance,
Please don’t take the air ambulance!

Image – Graham Richardson



It is reported that the NHS is experimenting with a chatbot for diagnosing complaints (of a medical nature).

“Hello, hello, I’m 1 – 1 – 1,
My other patient has just gone,
She started to get on my wick,
But sticking plaster did the trick.

But on to you, all boxes ticked,
So we’ll soon have your problem licked;
I see no headache, that is good,
You’ve taken aspirin as you should,
And when you sit there is no pain,
Until you then get up again.

Your skin is fine, you have no rash,
But if around the room you dash,
You are quite wobbly on your pins –
That’s after six or seven gins.

Let’s focus on the legs now please,
You say they’re fine and bend with ease,
But then your heel like Achilles,
Is that you seem to have three knees.

Since these last four lines all do rhyme,
We’ve used up almost all our time,
And this does now the question beg,
Have you perhaps a broken leg?

If that is so we must act fast,
Don’t bother with Elastoplast,
But try to get to A&E,
Where they will patch you up for free.

I’ll tell them that you’re on your way,
So they’ll have someone there today,
But do get there while still alive –
So maybe better not to drive!”

Image –



It is reported that speed bumps increase air pollution as they prevent cars driving at a constant speed and this results in unnecessary deaths.

The sleeping policeman we don’t like,
Designed to slow your car or bike,
And which gets always on your wick,
Is coming in now for some stick.

It seems they are not all that green,
A bad thing on the city scene,
For as you’re learning in this verse,
They make your car’s pollution worse.

The problem is, you might have guessed,
When bound for North, South, East or West,
As well they make you curse and frown,
They really do make you slow down.

The method is to hit the brakes –
A second is just all it takes –
Then when the obstacle is past,
You can go back to driving fast.

This havoc with the engine plays,
In many complicated ways,
But basically I can tell you,
Your engine makes more NO2,
And though it’s hard for you to tell,
It makes more other things as well.

If these pollutants get too high,
It’s claimed that older folk will die,
But with their lives they don’t quite pay,
For they will all die anyway.

So probably the real truth,
Devoid of spin and also spoof,
Is life expectancy will fall,
A figure that applies to all,
Which would be good for – have a guess –
Our old beleaguered NHS!

Image – Wikimedia commons

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