The 11 Questions post had a great question in it- about why I would make a better politician than the bunch of toffee nose tossers we have now.
I actually studied Government and Politics for a'level and enjoyed it, and I do take an interest in what's happening in our country with regards the Condems as they seem to be on a never ending mission to bankrupt everyone bar their Private school chums and can only be days away from opening up Work Houses for anyone lacking a posh accent.
Which leads me nicely onto something which I would love to see voted in.
National Bitch Slap Day.
National Bitch Slap Day would occur once everyone 6 months, possibly more, and would entail, well, bitch slapping those who have annoyed the hell out of you and made your life just that little bit harder.
Don't get me wrong, I would not allow mass public beatings and violence. Oh no. There would be rules set.
For starters, you would need to apply for a Secret Pre-Bitch Slap licence. You would need to detail what the intended Bitch Slappee had done to you to warrant the slap, which would be approved.
Then, from 7am to 5pm on National Bitch Slap Day, all licence holders would have to put on one of those foam hands that Miley Cyrus is always licking and rubbing up herself on and go to the home of the slappee.
You would not be allowed to use weapons or add metal or weight to the foam hand. And you can only slap from 2 foot away to the back of the head, with an open, not closed, hand.
Special permission would also be granted should the intended slappee be nominated by more than 2 individuals to slap them with a large wet fish.
I feel, despite knowing that Elder would probably be granted a licence to slap me that it would restore order to the nation.
Why do I feel the need for this?
Today has been an utter joke, filled with knobjockey like behavior.
I give you the Craplord, who still hasn't done what was asked of him by the Environmental Health. He just seems to not care about a possible £400 fine at all. He is still giving us a days notice before sending someone round who clearly has no idea what they are doing and, in the case of the "electrician" (I use the term loosely as he had no paperwork with him to prove such) made the item he was due to fix worse (and after he left I noticed my jewelry box had been rifled through).
Then, we have the GP's Secretary. 6 weeks ago, I asked the GP to re-refer Littlest to his Consultant. I wanted to get him in asap while its still cold and damp so as, this time, they can keep him overnight for observations, and prove I'm not actually batty and he is a lot worse at night. Thus, they may actually do something other than give us the same, useless, inhalers.
2 weeks ago, said GP asked had we had a letter. No, not from the hospital, at which point he said to wait a couple more weeks as he had personally sent the fax over.
On Monday, I was talking to the GP about Mini and her cough, when he mentioned Wycombe Hospital and had we heard yet, as he would chase it. As I hadn't, I decided to call them yesterday but the secretary wasn't there.
I spoke to her today- she's a gem, and had a good root through the computer for me. They hadn't had a referral by fax, phone or letter. I tried Wexham, just in case he'd mistakenly thought I wanted to go there again (not a chance), but nope, nothing there either.
On drawing a blank, and thinking this was another case of the secretary buggering up in the same fashion she did for 12 weeks about Littlest's allergy appointment (as she didn't know where to send it, and didn't think to ask anyone at all), I rang the surgery.
Yep, Secretary has messed up again. And apparently, its my fault.
How she works that out I have no idea, as all I'm guilty of is asking the GP to send a fax or letter to his named Consultant at the named hospital. How awful of me.
First, she tried to say she had looked for the Consultant but he wasn't there. She said his name wrong, so I corrected her, and told her he did indeed work there as I spoke to his Secretary not half hour before. She then said she had spoken to her herself and been advised to contact Stoke Mandeville hospital. I said, no, that can't be right as she'd not mentioned that to me at all. I asked why on earth she'd sent the referral to Stoke Mandeville hospital, one he'd never been to at all. Because the GP told her to.
So, two different versions in under 3 minutes from the same person who I intend to see lose her job this time. Stoke Mandeville, apparently, was contacted because I wanted a referral about his allergies.
So, clearly, she has finally caught up from 2 years back about the original referral that the practice manager gave her a written warning about and which she organised for the damn useless secretary in the first place. Not much help now though.
Which means I have to start all over again with the GP.
I also had to phone Stoke Mandeville up as I didn't want to lose his brilliant Allergy Specialist at Wexham by going on the book of someone else needlessly.
Except when I rang Stoke Mandeville, they-you guessed it- had never heard of Littlest either, and had never received a letter, fax or carrier pigeon.
I now have to also wait until the Practice Manager gets back from her jollies on Tuesday to say to her to sack the useless old crone who seems to not give a shite for my son at all.
See, National Bitch Slap Day would mean that rather than me feeling like I'm doing Basil Fawlty impressions, being surrounded by weak link knobs who seem to go out of their way to cause me untold and unnecessary stress, I would be safe in the knowledge that, come the day, I could go and slap the useless Craplord, lying GP and the couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery Secretary.
National Bitch Slap Day.
You know it makes sense.