Once upon a time I was sitting in my useless doctor's waiting room next to an American bloke from sunny eastern Pennsylvania. Well when I say "once upon a time" it wasn't really that long ago: it was around the time that Obamacare was being bludgeoned through the Congress by Barry, Harry and Nancy.
But I digress. For some unknown reason this gentleman had decided to bring his young son to see Mother England, but while here his son had unfortunately taken a slight fall while walking atop a short wall and had sustained an unseemly gash to his forehead just above his left eye. He, the father, was
pestering engaging me in stimulating conversation and remarked (1) how overawed he was by the apparent generosity of the British system for patching up his kid free of charge; (2) how pathetic it was that the richest country in the world (albeit not
per capita) has for decades failed abjectly to craft a system capable of treating all, rather than some, or indeed none, of its citizens absent the spectre of bankruptcy looming behind one corner and death around the other; and (3) how any British tourist injured or taken ill while visiting the United States should not expect to see that generosity reciprocated but, on the contrary, to be milked for every single cent they're worth.
And the quality of care was not in issue either: to the best of my knowledge, the boy's head did not turn gangrenous and fall off.
You socialist filth!!
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