Trust Me, I'm a Salesman

Between achingly sincere social media tributes to David Bowie - an alien-looking, sexually ambiguous creative type from Brixton, and therefore a natural Conservative hero - Britain's Head Boy has been attending an event about poverty, although it is not entirely clear whether he spoke in favour or against. In any case, he made use of the occasion to have a bit of a snivel about the nasty old BMA and the way it has been misleading junior doctors who, like so many proles, are much too myopically greedy and thick-headed to work things out for themselves. Apparently the BMA has been telling the prospective Big Pharma serfs that the Government wants to impose dangerously long hours, cut their pay and privatise the NHS, when all the Government really wants to do is impose dangerously long hours, cut their pay and privatise the NHS. The situation is all the more tragic in that the BMA is setting itself up against, of all people, Jeremy C Hunt, the Minister for Homeopathy and News Corporation, whose career of competence, rectitude and veracity speaks for itself. The BMA propaganda, burbled Britain's Head Boy, will cause all sorts of trouble for patients and is "simply not true;" and of course Britain's Head Boy knows all about the distinction between truth and untruth, to say nothing of giving people with health problems a good kick in the teeth. He did, after all, spend a good deal of time and energy, both before and during the Lansley clusterfuck, waving his dead child around and making various NHS-related promises that turned out to have - what shall we say? - a whiff of the Clegg-pledge about them.