I had occasion to say to a doctor this morning ‘If a vet treated my cat like this, I would go round to their surgery with an axe.’  I just hope that wasn’t too subtle for him.  My leg is still not better and having seen doctor number 8 last week, I begin to despair.

What has roused me from the Slough of Despond to incandescent rage this particular morning is that for the second time it has taken a week to renew my prescription.  Given the misery that I endure WITH the pills you may imagine what is to be left without them for a week.  After the Bank Holiday debacle I went to the surgery in person with every single detail written out and the packets that the pills had come in stapled to the paper.  Did they turn up in the three days I was promised?  Don’t even bother to answer.

Do I actually need to remind these people that they are not working for Ocado and substituting back rather than streaky bacon in a delivery.  You are dealing with actual human beings in pain who have no alternative.  How can they be SO incompetent and carry on working?  Twice!  Horse whipping is too good for them.

I have finally succumbed to the lure of private medicine.  Two months into my ordeal and still no scan or X-Ray or indeed anything that is a stab at a diagnosis.  I resent having to do so but at least there will be a nice waiting room and coffee and the people working there will pretend to give a toss.

As soon as I am better I am going to establish an organisation like the RSPCA but for humans.  We are a nation of animal lovers but people are subjected to cruelty and neglect that would have you locked up if you did it to a chicken.  Anybody with me?