Would he say no to saying no? The first question at PMQs, from Gregg McClymont, was about Cameron’s vote in the EU referendum, (if it ever happens). McClymont wants the PM to rule out ruling out Britain’s participation in the economic suicide pact based in Brussels.
Nope, said Cameron. He went on to boast that ever since he floated his referendum theory, foreign firms have been swarming to our shores and setting up shop in Britain. We might export this solution to the Eurozone. Make the referendum EU-wide and the investment gods will squirt prosperity into every crack and cranny of this seized-up continent.
In/out dominated Miliband’s questions too, as the Labour leader taunted Cameron over the TV debates. The Greens are now a resurgent force among the pinprick parties and Cameron has refused to attend the TV set-piece unless there’s a microphone with a Green honking into it. He accused Miliband of being scared of the Greens.
‘Chicken!’
Miliband accused Cameron of being scared of Miliband.
‘Frit!’
There’s a point here. And Cameron made it.
‘Ten of these sessions to go,’ (meaning the remaining prime minister’s questions before the election) ‘and he’s debating the debates.’
True. Miliband is so lacking in Periclean spirit that he prefers to discuss the team-sheet at a custard pie-fight rather than policy.
But then ‘policy’ for Labour really only means ‘health.’ It’s all they have. Cameron was keen to embarrass Miliband for allegedly vowing to ‘weaponise the NHS’ and he reminded the house that at a recent press event Miliband had failed seven times to disavow the phrase. A touch of Flashman (remember him?) glistened in his eye as he berated Miliband over this howler. But Cameron is a fine one to talk. These days he can barely weaponise the army.
Meg Hillier, who represents Hackney, the UK’s knife-crime capital, accused the prime minister of causing ‘a meltdown in emergency care’. Cameron deployed his stab-vest in the form of a tediously exact statistic from Hillier’s local hospital.
‘Last week 96.6 per cent of those going to A&E were seen within four hours.’
So there. Even this relatively clement winter has stretched our groaning hospitals to breaking point. The answer is simple. Delete the E-word from Accident & Emergency: it vastly over-dramatises the position.
Anyone who can survive for 240 minutes sitting in a plastic chair reading a Blair-era copy of House and Garden is clearly not an ‘emergency.’ An accident, yes, a misfortune, undoubtedly, but hardly a war-zone case requiring squads of jump-suited heroes running about the place, zapping chests with Tazer shocks, administering blood transfusions, and resuscitating collapsed lungs with mouth-to-mouth.
If A&E were called ‘Patch-up Care’, the delays endured by patients yawning over ancient crossword puzzles and sipping cups of tepid cocoa would cause no controversy. And true emergencies could be dealt with in ‘Tombstone Units’ whose name would deter all but the most serious cases.
Big Surprise of the Day was inspired by Alan Whitehead’s question about a fracking report released by Defra, (the Department for Environment, Food, Rural Affairs and Titular Superfluities). The original document, smothered in countless redactions, looked like it had been used for paint-balling practice. Not good enough for Mr Whitehead. He demands an unexpurgated version.
‘I will check,’ said Cameron cautiously before dropping his bombshell. ‘Because I don’t wish to give an inaccurate answer.’
Wow. That’s a first.
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