Written by Inchcock
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Thursday, 12 April 2012

image for The Bartholomew Uttersthwaite Column: Hospital Local Elections Survey Reporter Bartholomew Uttersthwaite: Ever ready!

Bartholomew Uttersthwaite had originally been out on his mission to obtain the views of the Nottingham public, on the upcoming Local Elections, but suffered failure in that attempt. Bartholomew Utterswaite Column - Local Eklections Survey Hence this, his second effort, done during his stay in ward E19 of the QMC hospital in Nottingham, as a result of his first attempt.

As soon as he started to come around after the operation, he was again, on the job. Pen and pad at his bedside, ready to record the views of the NHS staff on the local elections.

His first victim, male nurse Mahmood Shafquat (23), was returning the intrepid patient's replacement urine bag, when pen in hand Bartholomew inquired of him:
"Do you have any views on the upcoming local elections in Nottingham, that you'd like to share with readers of the Spoof Sir?"

"Too busy!" was the reply, as he rushed off back to the rest room TV set, leaving behind the aroma of cigarette smoke.

Moments later, a smiling SEN arrived with the medication chest, and started to issue him his with his prescribed tablets, he asked for her views:

"Oh, will this be going on the internet then?"

"Well, yes I hope so" he replied

"Good, that bastard Cameron and his shitty-headed rich snotty unelected set of champagne guzzling spoon-in-the-mouth gits should be assassinated, murdered, killed painfully, have their knobs chopped off, and be deported to Outer Mongolia!"

A shaken Bartholomew replied "Oh... well it was the local elections that I was wanting to know your views about really nurse."

She did not flinch from carrying out her duties and continuing to dispense the medications she said:

"It's time we had a revolution you know, it should start here in crime ridden filthy Nottingham, knock-off the crooked councillors while the 280 Nottingham policemen are in London policing the Olympics, it should be easy, I can give you a contact number if you want to help us?"

A now severely confused Bartholomew said:
"That's alright thank you, I've got that down."

The nurse then handed him a plastic cup of water, smiled gently and handed him his tablets saying "Now take these down Mr Uttersthwaite, and take care now. See you later."

She moved on to the next bed, leaving our reporter dazed.

A Dr Inzamam Choudhury (41)from Gastroenterology visited, and he was asked "Do you have any views on the upcoming local elections in Nottingham, that you'd like to share with readers of the Spoof Sir?"

"Good heavens no, I live in Richmond and commute each day... you don't think I'd live here in Nottingham do you?"

He was still laughing as he left the ward an hour later.

A little later, an Auxiliary Nurse informed the patients that could walk, that the food was ready to be collected at the end of the ward.
Bartholomew got out of bed, and masterfully coped with the zimmer frame and saline drip stand with the accompanying tubes, and waddled down to get his food, pen and pad in his pyjama pocket.

The assistant issuing the food, being his target for an interview, he waited until the 'rush' died down, and asked his question, getting the reply from the large, aggressive beauty behind the food trays:

"What? Why do you want to know? Do you think I've got tome to talk with the likes of you? Sod off!"

He struggled back down the corridor to his bed, really rather glad she had not given him any food, because he now realised he could not have carried it anyway.

The Senior Charge Nurse Lance Boyle (36) informed him that Dr Seymour Butt from Psychiatry was coming for a talk!

Once more confused, Bartholomew thought at least he might be able to get the doctors views on the local elections.

The doctor arrived, drew the curtains around the bed, smiled and asked Bartholomew to drop his pyjama bottoms, and started to examine in detail what was exposed.

Bartholomew took the chance to ask the doctor what his views were on the local elections.

The doctor carried on with his fondling and prodding, and replied:

"Not a lot, but I suppose the council has to be run by someone. They get a lot of stick I'm told..."

At this point Bartholomew wondered why a doctor from the Psychiatry department had got his wedding tackle in his hands, and was smiling!"

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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