Tuesday 21 December 2010

DVD: MEGA-PIRANHA

So I've just got back from a crowded pub having had a meal with my friend Barry (aka Anonymous No.1), half a pint of real ale and a bottle of Hardy's Shiraz (£6.30) and I'm just in the mood to review a piece of crap like Mega-Piranha.
This cropped version of a poster is exaggerated. It takes at least half a dozen to eat a battleship.
This isn't. It is also very funny as our hero kicks several over-large piranha which are trying to eat him.

The Plot. In Venezuala, well-meaning American scientists have accidentally developed a strain of piranha which double their size every 48 hours and they have gotten loose in the Orinoco River. I know this because every time you see a South American river the words Orinoco River flashes on the screen. This also happens every time you got to a new location or see a new character.

When they American ambassador and his V conterpart are eaten by big piranha, our hard-core hero is sent to investigate his mysterious death (he doesn't know they were eaten by big piranhas). He meets the bad guy, a Venezualan military man. (NB Venezuala dislikes the USA so much they changed their clocks by half an hour so they wouldn't be in the same time zone: fact!) He also meets our heroine 80's Pop Sensation Tiffany (as she is always billed on the DVD box and any other publicity material) who is a scientist trying to grow fish to feed the population but grew the piranha which accidentally got loose so it's all her fault!

The bad guy fails to destroy the piranha which keep on growing and head downriver towards the open sea which they couldn't exist in but who the hell cares. On their way they leap out of the river and hit several buildings which explode. Don't know why but they do. They also eat lots of people and get kicked by our hero.

Hero and Tiffany and another scientist who hasn't been killed head for the coast to alert a a battleship to destroy the piranha before they reach the open sea and get to Florida faster than a jet. They are pursued by the bad guy and his minions but who cares because the battle ship doesn't kill enough of them and gets eaten and the giant piranha head for Florida.

Reality check. Venezuala is actually on the west of South America with its coast on the Pacific. However, the maps we see are of the east coast, specifically Belize where the movie was actually filmed.

At this point I stopped caring. The end doesn't make sense but neither does what happened before that. There's a documentary about how they made this wonderful film film for peanuts and I believed every word, almost. Not that it doesn't have some entertainment value but it sure is a pile of shit.

Sunday 19 December 2010

MORE ANONYMOUS COMMENTS ON THE NHS

(There may be more than one Anonymous and I'm getting confused but it's an interesting topic.)
Anonymous Anonymous said...
Bollocks! Funding is PARTLY from "general taxation" - the rest IS from the NI (or NHI) contributions deducted from pay, which do fund certain other benefits as well. NI contributions are most definitely NOT only used for contributory benefits. There is a strong clue in the letter 'H'...... Some checking of history books is clearly needed here. For now, I present a quote from a stiff looking Labour minister who presented the basis of the NHS/Wefare State in a 1946 public information film shown then in cinemas. "You will receive all these things free of charge, but of course they do have to be paid for. For this, all we ask from you is a few shillings a week out of your wage packet..." That is the base principle that still operates, despite "Anonymous" attempting to give the impression I'm being corrected by him/her/it. By the way, when this same minister said "Free health care fort all, from cradle to the grave", he meant all the resident population of the UK, not all the world. As early as 1948, "health tourists" were identified.... The REAL Anonymous BEWARE OF IMITATIONS!
17 December 2010 20:29
Delete
Anonymous Anonymous said...
Ho hum. I concede the honourable gentleman's point that there has always been a small proportion of the NI deduction allocated to the NHS, but not directly from the NI Fund. The majority of the funding of the NHS comes from general taxation. Your payslip may have an "H" on it. Mine doesn't, it refers to "NICs". The founding principles of the NHS are a long way off and have been fiddled with by governments of all colours, and the present incumbents are equally determined to wreak their havoc. More Anonymous Than You
19 December 2010 02:53
Delete
Anonymous Anonymous said...
Yes, all quite true - and I wonder which party would ever dare state its intention to "wreak their havoc" at the top of an election manifesto? The last honest PM we ever had (well, mainly honest) was John Major, who stated quite forcefully: "The NHS is safe in my hands" - and it was - until Bliar and the New Fascist Tyrant Party took over!
19 December 2010 11:20
 

Thursday 16 December 2010

COMMENT ON SOCIAL MEDICINE BY ANONYMOUS

who I assume is my mate Barry. It is listed in the comments but because I don't know how to show the comments themselves I'm printing it here.

Was this the joy promoted in 1962 by a street corner commie agitator in the USA named Lee Harvey Oswald?

Thank God they still cling onto the "Pay or Die" system, demonstrating that the richest country is the most advanced, civilized and caring one.

However, those who "pay" actually don't pay - it's their private medical insurance companies that pay the hospital bills, based on the fact that the customer has already paid agreed premiums.

Social medicine schemes exist in many countries who claim to care about their population. Our NHS is funded by dregs allocated to it by gangster politicians from contributions working people make - we call these NHI, and I must emphasise the letter "I". We pay an insurance PREMIUM, in return for which we claim so-called "free" care as and when needed beacause the contract ENTITLES us to it.

This is why I am shocked that you fell into the propaganda trap of thinking that your treatment didn't cost you a penny. It has cost you more than a penny - WHEN you pay for something (before, during or after) matters not - it's that you HAVE paid. If any old payslips survive in your house, check the NHI Deductions taken from you, as well as Income Tax.

The average person pays NHI of a % on 40 years salary, which is about one million pounds. As this is 10%, any fool can work out that you paid up to £100k. Whether or not any of it is used to treat you is not relevant - the NHS is a communal insurance risk pot we all put into for the overall benefit of all contributors.

Anyone who disagrees with that concept deserves to die in poverty in the USA.

There will be more from THE Anonymous!
15 December 2010 11:25

Just to add my own brief comment.

Yes A, I am aware that I have paid for my treatment out of my taxes but that is a very painless way of doing it. What I, personally, have got out of this is as follows:

A lifetime of consultations with a General Practitioner and since my 60th birthday umpteen free prescriptions.

Several visits to the A&E department.

Several visits to the Eye Infirmary, including 2 cataract operations.

An operation involving a four day stay in hospital for piles.

Four and a half weeks in hospital including all treatment and meals for prolonged diarrea, pneumonia, renal failure, etc.

And my recent colonoscopy.

As far as I'm concerned I've had my taxes worth out of the system.

COLONOSCOPY UPDATE

Just received a call from Nicola the senior nurse who runs the programme to say that my results had arrived.

They are clear. The polyps, which it was useful to have removed, were not of the type to develop into cancerous growths.  I will be sent the faecal test kit in another two years (just because it's clear this time...) but apart from that I'm discharged. She did tell me to keep an eye on my bowels (a little difficult but I know what she means) and either call the department or mention it to my GP if I have any concerns.

I can now breathe a sigh of relief.

Phew.

I told Nicola that Susan and I worked directly with the public all our lives and she and her team displayed a very high standard of customer care and we both appreciated it.

So that's over. Normal service will now be resumed.

Tuesday 14 December 2010

HEALTH: ME & MY COLONOSCOPY

NB: if the mention of bodily fluids makes you queasy, skip this posting.

So, two posts and 10/11 days ago I found out that my faecal smear test had come back as Abnormal. I should explain that these tests are sent out free to all UK citizens between 60-70 to test for bowel cancer in order to catch it early, courtesy of that bane of mad Americans to wit socialised medicine or, as it's known in the UK, the National Health Service. (Just to knock American stupidity for a moment: a few years ago some researchers asked a number of Americans what they thought of a few certain selected statements. More than a few responses were of the left/commie crap variety. The statements were taken from their own Constitution which they supposedly revere above everything except God and Jeezus).

In the letter informing me of the result was also the date of a consultation with a screening practitioner. How long did I have to wait before this happened? Um, four whole days. I went with Susan, was seen on time, and had everything explained very clearly to me by the young lady who also checked my relevant medical history equally thoroughly before giving me a choice of appointments at 3 different hospitals. I picked the first one at Sunderland Royal, my local, which took place today, a whole week later.

I'd like to say that I've been phlegmatic about the whole thing and I certainly attempted to put that kind of air but turthfully it was more show than substance. There was a very real chance -10%- that I had bowel cancer which if not caught early enough could kill me in a few short years. I had, given family history, been assuming I had at least another 18 active years ahead of me. Now I had to confront the possibility that it could be considerably less and I didn't like it. 

It's certainly made me reconsider the way I go about certain things. On a trivial level, I have over 30 books I haven't read that I want to read but haven't because I keep buying more. That is going to stop right now. Today I began a biography of Howlin' Wolf which I'd picked as part of my leaving present from work over two years ago. There's music I haven't listened to because I keep buying more. And there's more personal stuff I'm keeping to myself.

Monday, yesterday, and my last meal before the colonoscopy was at noon. I had cheese on toast with Marmite followed by a cake. Two hours later I swallowed 6 sennacot tablets with water. At 5.00pm I made up the first sachet of laxative by filling a litre jug and mixing it all in. It took me just over an hour to drink it all. Twenty minutes before the next jug full at 7.00pm I had to dash to the toilet. Repeat until I went to bed at 11.00pm.

Then hurridly get up ten minutes later.

As I was due to start on the third sachet at seven the next morning, I got up early to feed Emmy the stray cat who's been living in a cage in my garage for nearly three weeks and change her cat litter. At lunchtime she was taken away to StrayAid where she'll stand a better chance of being re-homed.

I didn't bother getting dressed as I couldn't really go more than a few feet from the toilet and even then had a couple of minor mishaps. I thought occasionally about eating food and drinking red wine. A compulsive reader, while sitting on the throne and starting the previous evening I read bits of an illustrated history of slasher movies. When the time came to go to the hospital I'd pretty much read most of it.

The laxative did its job and my gut was well and truly flushed out and what I was passing looked like clear yellow urine. Surprisingly I didn't really feel hungry despite all I'd had in over 24 hours was the laxative and a few mugs of black coffee.

We got there early and managed to get a parking space after only five minutes. After signing in I pulled out a book to read -there was 15 minutes before my appointment and I was expecting to go in late- when my name was called. The registration process followed, then I was taken to a bed with a locker next to it, the curtains were drawn and I was told to strip, put my clothes in the locker and put on the hospital gown. That done I was handed over to the colonoscopy team.

I opted for a sedative, primarily because it would help relax my bowels as well as me, which went in my arm. I was told it would probably leave me with gaps in my memory of the procedure and the post-op chat with the nurse practitioner. And it must have done because, while the colonoscopy itself took over twenty minutes and I was watching it on the screen, my memory says it only feels like five. I didn't find it particularly uncomfortable either.

Once done, I was wheeled back to the cubicle to rest for half an hour. I fell asleep. After that, got dressed, had a cup of coffee (terrible) and a cheese sandwich (not much better), by which time I was feeling fine and went for the post-op interview with Susan, who had been waiting patiently for nearly two hours, in attendance.

Three polyps had been found and removed for biopsies. The doctor who performed the procedure believed them to be harmless and that I should be fine but that won't be confirmed until the biopsy results are in on Friday. I feel quite reassured but the jury's verdict isn't in yet.

On the way home I decided I had a mad hunger for fish and chips so we duly stopped off so I could get some. Back home, after feeding myself and the cats, I lay down on the bed and flaked out for two hours. The sedative won't be flushed out of my system until tomorrow so I've got to take care and avoid alcohol for another night as it reacts badly with it. Bugger.

As for that vile monstrosity of socialised medicine, all I can say is that I was treated like an intelligent individual, shown courtesy and consideration, given meticulous and prompt treatment, and it didn't cost me a penny. Shame about the lousy coffee but every complaint should be so ludicrously trivial. 

Thank you NHS.

Saturday 4 December 2010

SNOW DOGS: NOT A HEART WARMING STORY

This post also appears in my Catrescuing blog.

I don't generally get involved in dog rescue but an extra hand was needed as the rescue involved picking up, walking, and transporting four dogs. Phil was driving, Andrea would be in the back with the dogs, and I'd help with them out of the van.

Basically the dogs were very neglected and one of the two owners was threatened with the loss of his job because he smelled. When we arrived at the house, the reason he smelled wasn't because of the dogs though, admittedly, if you don't clean up dog shit inside a house it might be a contributing factor. Basically the house was filthy and squalid and on a par with the worst I've ever seen. It was just disgusting. Three of the dogs had hair loss on their backs, probably due to a flea allergy. But the fourth, the oldest and mother of the others and had been used for breeding, had a mass of pustles covering half its back. Yet the dogs were friendly and mother the sweetest of the them all.

We took them for a walk in the snow prior to getting them in the van so they could empty themselves.
As I said, they were friendly, they also barked a lot and in the confines of a small van that was a lot of loud barking. Anyway, down the A19, right onto the A690, turn left onto the A1M, take the first exit and turn right or this in this case left for a case of 6 and one 3, and here we are at Stray Aid rescue deep in the frozen Durham countryside.

Stray Aid, which primarily does dogs plus a few cats, are a well-resourced organisation run by a vet and her partner. Phil was arguing to place the case with the RSPCA which Stray Aid were supporting. But that meant heading back up the A1M to take the dogs to the RSPCA place at Felledge near Chester le Street. Personally I felt they should be left with Stray Aid. But no, up the A1M we went. But first a little gambol in the deep snow.
The sheep were already there. We haven't started rescuing them.
Although Stray Aid is only 50 yards from the A1M, it's two miles to drive to the nearest slip road.

 
Before we set out I did suggest phoning the RSPCA but was told that they never makes decisions over the phone. So off we went up to the Chester le Street turnoff. Just as well it wasn't further as the dual carriageway there was reduced to a single lane. We doubled back heading south again along an urban dual carriageway and saw the traffic on the other side of the road stuck in a tailback at least two miles long.

So we got to Felledge and Phil went inside and learned that not only did they not have anyone on the premises to make a decision, they couldn't contact anyone to make a decision.

So: back to Stray Aid or take the dogs back toe their owners. I suggested it would be highly unlikely that they'd take them back and a phone call proved this to be the case. They may have poor standards of hygiene but they weren't completely stupid. I wasn't convinced there was any point in prosecuting them as the dogs had been neglected rather the object of deliberate cruelty. So: back to Stray Aid via Durham and the A1M turnoff we'd last gone down two hours earlier. Here's Felledge.

Our van.
And the dogs were left at Stray Aid. They felt sure that two were easily re-homeable after some flea treatment, a third would need some behavioural work, the mother would be put to sleep to end her suffering.

Despite all the pretty pictures I've taken it was a long and dispiriting five hours

Friday 3 December 2010

HEALTH: DOCTOR DELIGHTED WITH RESULTS OF MY BLOOD TESTS, BUT-

I'm on three different types of pills and every so often I have my bloods checked a week before one of my bi-monthly visits to my GP, a pleasant practical woman old enough to have a  daughter in her late teens. The results of this current lot of testing were very good: things were either as they should be or better. My liver, despite me drinking about two thirds of a bottle of red wine a night, is in better shape than hers.

Great, super!

Then I had my flu jab and by early evening I had come down with a rip-snorting cold. 

Sleep that night (we're talking yesterday) was disturbed by periods of wakefulness and hallucinatory dreams and a cat wanting to be out at two in the morning and a cat wanting to lie on top of me and purr. When I woke at 6.30 I still felt lousy. Surprisingly, within half an hour or so I was starting to perk up and changed my mind about cancelling the checkup of the cat I'd recently rescued (see Catrescuing blog for 29th November).

I took her along to the vets who confirmed that she was indeed a healthy youngish and neutered adult female. When I got back home, Susan insisted I go and get the slow puncture in the van fixed. By this time I'd started to feel rough again but I duly did as I was told and ending up standing in the freezing cold for half an hour. No fun. Got home and there was a letter from the Sunderland Health Authority.

I knew what it was. Every couple of years adults over 60 have to take some faecal samples and send them in so they can be checked for signs of bowel cancer. After the first one I had to do a second because the results were unclear. And this letter was the result of the test. Here are the second and third sentences -their use of Bold.

"This has shown an abnormal result. Most abnormal results are not caused by cancer." They cite piles as a possible cause. Alas I had some removed 22 years ago and they don't normally return and there is nothing in my experience to suggest they have.

So they are going to send me for a colonoscopy and have booked a consultation with a screening practitioner on Tuesday who will, hopefully give me a date. Presumably this is to put my mind at ease. What it will be is a chance to play smug knowitall git as I had one four years ago when I was hospitalised with uncontrollable diarrhea and pneumonia.

Now: am I bovvered? Oddly, no. I feel rather phlegmatic about the whole thing. Why worry when so far it's only a theoretical possibility? 

Have I got one of these inside me?

I'll keep you informed.