Right. Enough is enough.
When I go to a doctor, I expect to be seen at my convenience, for as long as I want to see the fucker. For this privilege, I expect to pay a reasonable sum and I expect him to attend to the health issues I've gone to see him about. If my diet, smoking or drinking habits are germane, I will listen to his advice and make my own mind up.
What I get when I go to a doctor is a 10-minute whistle stop squeezed into an already over-filled diary, where the doctor expects me to self-diagnose so he can perform his role as the signer of the prescription or the organiser of the specialist. I am then shooed out of the room as quickly as possible with a scrap of paper in my hand and violence in my heart.
The violence is not stilled when I read day after day of unelected cunt weasel doctors preaching about how the rest of us need to live our lives in a state of beige torpor, unenlivened by any of the things that make life worth living.
We are not allowed to smoke, with greater and greater restrictions on where and when you are allowed to smoke. Drink is next in line, with pompous declarations on "units", and daily "allowances" plucked out of the air. Fat? You bastard, don't you know that you're costing the NHS money? Money that could be used to pay overbearing prodnoses even more than they already earn?
The latest cockwaffle from these overweening proto-fascists is that hospitals will no longer allow sugar on the premises. No sweetened soft-drinks will be permitted, and fruit juices will be on the menu instead. Along with some unsalted, raw nuts perhaps.
Look you fucking cunts, don't think that because the useless government keeps throwing satchels of our fucking money at you that you're important enough to tell the rest of us how to live our fucking lives.
Piss off, shut up and count your egregious blessings. Because otherwise, after the fucking politicians, we'll be coming for you.