Trump is half right, the NHS is broke, but it will always work because of its people

Where Trump is wrong is in his assumption that the NHS doesn’t work. It does and will continue to, because no matter how much the Tories plan on destroying it, our hard working doctors, nurses, cleaners, porters and admin staff will do everything to keep it beating as if it were the heart of a small child rushed to A&E.

President scrotum chin can mock our public services for his fucked up political point scoring all he likes, and in this instance he’s half right, our health service is chronically underfunded.

It’s in a bad way and if it were to receive a diagnoses it would be terminal cancer, but I know where I’d sooner get sick in a toss up between the United States and here.

Our NHS is probably the only thing left which unites the people of this not so green and not so pleasant land these days.

In a country torn over Brexit, divided by the welfare state and immigration, the NHS is the one institution I can safely say we’re all really proud of.

After all, free healthcare care for all, regardless of background or status, must be the ultimate hall mark of a civilised society.

Where Trump is wrong is in his assumption that the NHS doesn’t work. It does and will continue to, because no matter how much the Tories plan on destroying it, our hard working doctors, nurses, cleaners, porters and admin staff will do everything to keep it beating as if it were the heart of a small child rushed to A&E.

This is what we do in our┬ácountry and it’s the one thing left which makes me proud to be British. When we get fuck all help from the government we step up.

Starve our poor will you? We’ll set up food banks!

Install anti homelessness bench devices? We’ll fucking remove them!

Underfund the NHS and pay its staff peanuts? They’ll react by treating the sick and dying in the fucking car park if there’s no beds.

Listen you gormless fuck headed lip swallowing cunt, you can slag off our bland food, you can take the piss out of our quaint little ways, or our politeness, but keep your tiny liver spotted hands away from our NHS, because if I have a heart attack in Asda tomorrow and there’s a doctor present, I can say with 100% certainty that he won’t be rifling through my pockets for fucking proof of insurance before saving my life.

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