Nobbut Laiking, by Ross Brewster
Millions of us, cowering in our homes during the Covid pandemic, stood on our doorsteps and clapped the NHS workers while banging pots and pans. It seems like an age ago. And they’re not clapping now.
That’s one of the tragedies in the Lucy Letby case, that of the nurse in the maternity unit who murdered seven babies and probably harmed many more. Of course there is immense sympathy with the families of these unfortunate babies, and a sense of anger and being let down by people we want to trust.
But tens of thousands of people in the NHS do a good, honest, over-stretched and dedicated job. If their reputation has been tainted by Lucy Letby, and by managers who closed ranks while concern was being expressed by doctors, then in a sense she has even more victims — her former colleagues working in hospitals throughout the country.
The NHS, which is just a few months younger than me, is a massive organisation employing more than 500,000 staff in England alone. In any body that size there will be a few black sheep.
Lucy Letby looks so ordinary. The sort of girl who might have kept a low profile at your school. Not a potential child killer. Heavens no. But then, people who kill so often do appear ordinary. What do we expect? Monsters with dripping fangs and hairy hands, or girls next door like Lucy?
I’m not sure that inquiries do much good. Yes, they will trot out the usual “lessons will be learnt” statements. But will they? Are whistleblowers any more likely to be listened to? Or will it be another case of sweeping things under the carpet, closing ranks and making the whistleblowers out to be the villains? Get rid of the troublemakers and the problems go away.
Shockingly, the hospital where Letby worked spent £325,000 on public relations consultants. Actually not so unusual. Image is everything these days. Getting the right mission statements. Making sure the corporate branding looks smart. This is modern management culture. Keeping the public in the dark. This case has appalled. Yet I doubt it’s the last of its kind.
Sadly there is no way of compelling convicted criminals to hear family testimonies in court. A barrister explained to me, some criminals will use the chance to disrupt sentencing hearings, adding to the distress of victims. The risk is too great.
The final frontier will be humanity’s next battleground
Don’t bank on space and lunar exploration as the last hope that nations can do something for the benefit of humanity without wars.
Nasa is committed to landing astronauts on the moon by 2025. China plans to land by 2030 and, in recent days, India succeeded where the Russians crashed while landing a robotic craft on the lunar surface.
But this is just another conflict by a different name. All of them have one aim — to exploit the moon’s resources for their own economic ends and be the first to stake a claim.
After managing to destroy this planet, they will set about turning space into chaos and the moon and eventually Mars into their new battlegrounds. Good luck to any aliens that get in our way. We’ll have their planets next.
Football fans can’t get with the programme
Carlisle United have decided they will no longer publish programmes, thus bringing to a close one of the great match day traditions.
I can fully understand the reasoning. It’s simply not economic. Not enough fans are willing to pay three quid, a lot more at Premier League games, for a publication that largely contains material available on official websites.
But for oldies like me — this is my 65th season watching United — it is a sad moment. A few clubs are putting their programmes online, but it’s not the same tactile experience as leafing through your collection at leisure. Each programme bringing back memories of that particular game and what you were doing in life at the time.
I began collecting as a kid. You could send away for programmes. Two bob for about a dozen issues. Two and six for the “bumper bundle” as advertised in Football Monthly. A few of us also did swops.
I’ve just finished reading a weighty tome by Cliff Hague entitled Programmes! Programmes! No prizes for guessing the theme. He sums it up well when he says those old programmes not only reflect our love of football, but also the social history and culture of their time.
Well now the football programme has gone the same way as the sporting pink newspaper, into oblivion save for the memories of those who treasured those old issues with their manager’s notes, half-time scoreboards and teams set out in the centre pages in 2-3-5 formation. And the adverts, often the best bits because they told you about a town and its businesses and industry as well as its football team. Look back 75 years and you see a very different Britain through the eyes of these programmes.
Still, one must accept change even if a 50p team sheet is probably no replacement for the cries of “programme, get your official programme” that echoed outside the stadiums of my youth.
