Apparently the clapathon for the NHS is at its peak so now is a good time to stop.
The founder of the weekly “clap for carers” campaign has said next Thursday’s show of support should be the last, amid concerns the event has become politicised.
Annemarie Plas, from South London, said she was “overwhelmed” by the support for the cacophonous ritual but it was better to stop when it was at “its peak”.
She told the PA news agency: “I think it’s good to have the last of the series next Thursday, because to have the most impact I think it is good to stop it at its peak.
If this dire soviet style display of statism ever peaked, it did so on its initial night. After that, it was just tedious as it lacked spontaneity. Not that I took part then. Even if I had been inclined, I’d forgotten all about it and was mildly puzzled by the sudden outburst of noise in the street.
Even if I had remembered, I find the whole concept a stomach churning, toe curling embarrassment, so I would have eschewed it anyway. Even if I was a statist who worships at the altar of the NHS, I’d have stayed indoors because I find such displays so yucky. The very thought makes me cringe.
But I don’t worship at the altar of the NHS. It demonstrates perfectly what is wrong with the concept of socialised healthcare as we see the nasty little puritans using it as a justification for their constant nagging about our lifestyle choices. Even ordinary citizens will comment disapprovingly about those who dare to drink or smoke as “costing the NHS” when in fact those people pay a damned sight more in taxes than those of us who abstain. It’s the casual acceptance of the indoctrination that irks.
Not to mention that in the past twenty years, I have been misdiagnosed, dropped off the waiting list, reinstated to the back of the queue again, tested, prodded and given a nasty infection, only to be told what I already knew. And as I have mentioned here before, the wonderful NHS made Mrs L’s final weeks on this Earth more miserable than they might otherwise have been. I ain’t forgiven that and I’m not sure I ever will or can.
I’m not wildly impressed by the NHS, so I’ll be damned if I’m going to make a bloody fool of myself clapping like a performing seal on the doorstep on a Thursday evening. The tractor stats will be the same whatever I do. That it is coming to an end is no bad thing. Good riddance to it.
Ms Plas suggested resurrecting the clap in 2021 to mark a year since the coronavirus outbreak.
Oh, fer Gawd’s sake!
Give the NHS the Clap? I wouldn’t piss on it if it were onfire.
(Very) many years ago, I witnessed a delightfully comic spectacle in the unlikely setting of our school chapel which was open to pupils for solitary lunchtime prayer (and, less spiritually, offered a handy place to hide when skiving off games).
A group of tiny girls from the reception class processed in, hands folded and eyes downcast. The first genuflected and crossed herself devoutly before moving to sit in a nearby pew. The second shot her a look, then genuflected twice, crossing herself each time, and knelt next to her friend, while the third, not to be outdone, genuflected three times and knelt at the altar rail, before joining them with a triumphant smirk.
Somehow I’m reminded of this every week, as the clap has gone from a brief round of applause to a full minute of clapping, pan-bashing and whooping. Those little girls were four or five years old; what’s everyone else’s excuse?
I’ve noticed people in our village doing it but nobody hassles us for not joining in. It all seems a bit Orwellian to me.
No one has hassled me either, but non participants have been in the majority from the beginning.
It strikes me as similar to those roadside dead flower displays marking – usually – someone’s receiving their richly deserved Darwin Award.
Don’t get me started on that.
The problem with roadside flowers isn’t so much that people buy them, though I do find it all a bit mawkish, but that no one ever seem to bother to remove them, so you see sad, untidy bunches of long-dead flowers tied to telegraph poles and street lights till they just rot away to nothing. The flowers, obviously, not the telegraph poles and street lights.
There’s one not far from me. They used artificial flowers and made up a number-plate memorial – the guy was a motorcycle mechanic at the local bike shop. It’s still there after five years.
One near me too, victim of a notoriously vicious murder. It’s on a small area of Council owned river bank and the guy who empties the bin always inspects it; dunno what he is looking for but I’ve not seen him remove anything.
It was politicised by Left hijacking it by week two
Until four weeks ago silence here then 2,1,2,2 clapping seals
Delingpole: Spot On
@macheath
+1 on infantilised population and Gov’t who scream “It’s scary” and hide
Actually it’s a smart move because otherwise it is just going to drizzle out into something quite pathetic and embarrassing. Actually it’s always been that
I wish there was a way of distinguishing between front line staff who are deserving of praise and the NHS megalith and its management who are not.
I like you would not take part for the same reason I do not fly the Union Flag over my house.
When my old mum (lifelong Registered Nurse) was well on the way to recovery from a hip replacement someone on the ward exhibited Hospital Disease so they shipped the whole lot of them to a sealed area of the hospital to ensure they all came down with it. Mum duly did and I didn’t see her for two months, she never really recovered from it and died two years later though they put something else on the death certificate (would be Covid these days, natch).
There’s a rumour going round that the whole Clapathon business embarrasses a good many front line medical staff.