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HomeNewsDiversity! Inclusivity! Inside Chatty’s Health Hub

Diversity! Inclusivity! Inside Chatty’s Health Hub


OUR Man in Westminster, Sir Charles ‘Chatty’ Chatterton MP, is committed to truth, transparency and decency. He is happy for TCW Defending Freedom to publish his correspondence to his constituents. Sir Charles has represented the people of Greater Tittleham since entering Parliament in 1966. He has recently accepted the post of Assistant Under Secretary of State at the Department of Health.

My Dear Friends 

In many ways it is appropriate that my new role should be to provide remedies for our foundering health service. The Chattertons have always been fortunate with their constitutions. I put this down to regular exercise, a meat-based diet and sensible breeding.

Judicious investment in such enterprises as the transportation of cotton and associated goods, and the avoidance of embroilment in speculations such as tulip mania, the South Sea Bubble and uneconomic railways have meant that my male forebears were never compelled to marry for money or property. Consequently, as you may have seen from the portraits in the Great Hall, you know us to be ruddy of complexion, sturdy in frame and stout of heart. I urge you to contrast those images with the bloated, pasty-faced specimens you may encounter in the House of Lords and on the Boards of large corporations.

I believe I have upheld the tradition of sensible breeding. Lady Veronica is the daughter of a General and a veterinarian. She is equally adept at shooting a poacher or gelding a horse.

Last week it was necessary to travel to London to acquaint myself with my new office. I am well aware that few, if any, of you ever want to visit the dreadful place and I urge you to remain steadfast in your resolve not so to do. Under the malign auspices of Mr Khan, the Great Wen appears more of a carbuncle on the face of the nation every time I visit.

My new desk is located in the grim Departmental offices in Victoria Street. The ghastly building gives the impression of having been designed by a hyperactive five-year-old let loose with a surfeit of Lego.

I was given a tour of the Department by the Second Permanent Secretary, a Miss Shona Hunter Dunn. She is a pale woman who has clearly never been ‘furnish’d and burnish’d by Aldershot sun’. The poor creature explained that she had devoted her life to public service and had consequently been imprisoned in dreary Government offices since leaving University. I offered her a job in my stables but, unwisely, she demurred.

Each of the floors in the building has staff responsible for different initiatives or projects. On the first floor is the Covid team. Stacked in every nook and cranny are piles of unused plastic protection garments and boxes from Pfizer marked ‘Use by May 2022’. The ghostly figure of Sir Chris Whitty prowled the scene looking ever more morose and hangdog. The mostly masked staff seemed equally despondent now that their moment of glory has passed. Several of them looked quite poorly.

The second floor is devoted to General Practitioners and Primary Care. It was deserted.

The third floor was a hive of activity. Dozens of people were frantically tapping their keyboards and jabbering on their phones. It was explained to me that this is the fastest-growing arm of the Department and is exceeding its budget in its mission to correct the lack of diversity and inclusivity in the NHS. This, I was led to believe, was the root causes of our maladies.

The deeply carpeted fourth floor is furnished with wonderful Boca do Lobo furniture. The walls are adorned with what seem to be original Impressionist paintings. During my visit a few well-dressed individuals were lounging about chatting or reading the Guardian. Apparently these are consultants who are devising plans to ensure the taxpayer gains the best value for money from this year’s one hundred and fifty billion-plus budget.

The people on the fifth floor are mostly rotund. They are involved in a Healthy Eating project. That day they were testing insect-based foodstuffs. The room stank of rotting compost.

Miss Hunter Dunn quickly ushered me past the armed guards and blacked-out windows on the sixth floor. I later discovered that the hush-hush operation in there is assessing the scale of the damage being caused by the jabs.

My small office is on the seventh floor. The staff there are to assist me in my task of keeping waiting lists below the ten million mark. On the wall of their open-plan office is a giant scoreboard. Every time another hundred people join the waiting list the number is updated. When a thousand join an alarm sounds. In my brief time there the alarm sounded five times. Disconcertingly, when this happened several of the staff threw up their arms and began to moan and gnash their teeth. They were led away to an adjacent darkened room where they were calmed by chamomile tea, whale sounds and the scent of lavender.

As you can imagine I shall not be spending a great deal of time in Victoria Street.

Then, as ‘westering, questioning settles the sun’, 

I bade farewell to Miss Hunter Dunn.

I cannot express my joy at returning to the oasis of sanity that is Tittleham. My delight was enhanced when I was informed that Lady Veronica had admitted defeat in her attempts to master the zither. She has now turned her attention to the euphonium and hopes to play it to entertain guests at the first Warm Wednesday next week.

I remain,

Your ever humble and obedient servant, 

Sir Charles Chatterton MP
Tittleham Hall
Middle Tittleham

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John Ellwood
John Ellwood
John is the father of four beautiful girls. He is, thankfully, not knowingly related to Tobias Ellwood. ‘My Dear Friends . . . ’ a compilation of many of John’s contributions to TCW Defending Freedom is available in paperback and on Kindle.

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