By Roy Hobbs
SO nurses are going on strike. Well so am I. While they’re being leftie troublemakers I won’t be fantasising about their tight, sexy uniforms with stockings and suspenders underneath.
Nurses are a great British wank fantasy, like Barbara Windsor in Carry On Doctor, or Joanne Whalley in The Singing Detective. Lucky old Dennis Potter with his crippling psoriasis. But now nurses’ heads are full of politics I may as well be having a tug over Mick Lynch.
I should have seen the rot setting in. Last time I was in hospital with my chronic flatulence, quite a few nurses were fat, which is hypocritical when you’re trying to make patients healthy. And all of them were wearing trousers, I suppose to try and feel as important as men.
I’d like to see nurses back in skirts with a glimpse of suspenders and their dainty little hats. Luckily we have a Tory government, so that’s exactly the sort of irrelevant, ‘traditional’ policy we can expect.
Going on strike just decreases their attractiveness. All this left-wing sloganeering is more befitting of a communist union firebrand than a health professional. No one wants Arthur Scargill sticking his finger up your bum.
This dispute must be settled, and quickly. Obviously we can’t pay nurses more, because they’re just nurses who collect bedpans and so on, but we could give them perks that make them rediscover their femininity, such as a discount on make-up or a kitten petting zoo.
Better still, put them on sexiness-related pay. An absolutely gorgeous nurse like Kate Beckinsale in Pearl Harbor would get a bonus by docking the salary of a plain, frumpy nurse like Florence Nightingale. (I don’t see why they’re so upset about pay anyway – they’ve got food banks, haven’t they?)
Above all, the patient must come first. Some may need constant monitoring, some may need a special diet, and some may want a good perv over your tits. So get back to work, nurses, and show you really are a caring profession when it comes to me having a wank.
