ME on RADIO FOUR

This is John Martin reporting live from London for the Dr Speedy broadcasting service.

This morning I received a telephone tip-off. The caller could not give their name for security reasons but simply said "This is agent codenamed 001/7. I have information that needs to be worked on Speedily."

He then told me a surveillance team had been keeping an eye on a well known insurance company and I needed to check it out. This is what happened when I reached the coordinates 001/7 gave me.

I approached the building casually using some ME-6 training I picked up from watching Spooks. I realised I only had 55 minutes to save the world.

Sometimes people don’t appreciate the pressure us Spooks are under. It's a bit like having ME.

I could see there was a small dog chained to the front gates of the insurance company. It was a poodle. But I couldn't tell what type.

I observed the poodle closely and noticed something strange. Whenever an expensive car approached the building the little dog seemed timid, frightened and intimidated and could be seen cowering against the gates.

However whenever someone in a wheelchair tried to get past and into the building the little poodle would become confident, aggressive and nasty. It was as if its personality had completely changed.

Throughout the entire operation I was in contact with agent 001/7 through a hidden earpiece and microphone.

Dr Speedy knows his agents lives are in constant danger and insists our equipment is the best (unlike Tony Blair who sent our troops to Iraq under prepared, on a futile mission and equipped with dodgy gear).

"001/7" I said "I have located the building but I am unable to identify the target.

I can't put a name to the poodle" The voice of agent 001/7 came clearly through my earpiece for our commanding officer Dr Speedy always makes sure the equipment is checked and rechecked before every mission.

"John, he said "the target has been identified as the Psychiatric Poodle"

"Please confirm target 001/7." I requested "I thought you said Psychiatric Poodle"

"Target confirmed John. Please be careful it's a Psychiatric Poodle."

As 001/7 has worked with great distinction for the real ME-6 I didn't want to appear as though I'd only been watching Spooks so I pretended to know what he was talking about but quickly got out my Undercover Reporters Guide To Small Doggies.

There it was in black and white. The same colour as the poodle.

The Psychiatric Poodle my book said, was first seen in the Soviet Union in the 1970's where it would only attack democracy campaigners.

It was also seen in China in the 1990's where it would only attack religious believers.

It is also believed that the poodle was introduced to the UK in the late 1980's where it would only attack the sick and disabled.

I got back to 001/7 immediately on my concealed communication equipment. "How is it possible I asked to train a poodle to only attack the most vulnerable people in every society?"

"The reason the Psychiatric Poodle is so little thought of" said 001/7 is that you don't have to train it or issue any orders "You see the Psychiatric Poodle can anticipate its master’s wishes, and barks accordingly."

"Are all psychiatrists poodles?" I asked 001/7.

"Certainly not" he replied " Our organisation has the greatest of respect for many psychiatrists.

The Australian psychiatrist Dr Jean Lennane is no poodle, neither is the Swedish psychiatrist Per Dalen and the psychiatrist Victor Frankl was the bravest of the brave."

"What should I do 001/7?" I asked.

"I want you to go up to the little poodle and show him as much love and compassion as you can" said 001/7

"How can I?" I protested "they are attacking the sick and disabled, people like us, people with ME.”

"Look" said 001/7 "this is a difficult and dangerous job we do, but no-one said working for Dr Speedy was going to be easy.

Our organisation has been observing the Psychiatric Poodle for years and you don't have to do anything. History has its own way of taking care of this particular little beast. Just show it some compassion while it's still around."

"I'm going to follow orders and be nice to the little poodle" I said the words sticking in my throat. "I'm going to go over and show it lots of love and affection.”

"I'm proud of you" said 001/7 "but be careful John" he added "that little bastard could have your hand off."

Please remember the next time you hear a psycho babbler talk about ME, might be on the radio ACTUALLY, as the BBC is very kind to put ME and you in the spotlight on RADIO FOUR. Remember that we have moved forward so much in medicine, that we now have a blood test for almost anything and everything.

For example we can do one to see if you have a depression, if you have Alzheimer’s, a tennis elbow, DIABETES, and the first line of treatment I read in the TIMES a while ago was CBT, or was insulin still the preferred option for diabetes, I must say, I am not sure anymore.

Or many many other neurological illnesses that sometimes take years to diagnose. Because we doctors know it all, now I read that somewhere as well, but where??

Even something simple, like Celiac disease takes 5 years on average, and there is actually a blood test for this disease, no really.

And endometriosis takes a whopping NINE years to GET right.

So as you can see, we as doctors know everything and anything, and we have stopped a long time ago inventing new things, using new equipment, and so we don’t spend more and more each year on health care, to the delight of many governments and their deficits.

Luckily, otherwise we might cure some people and that was never the plan. Let alone getting the diagnosis right. It is so much nicer, really, to call people names. But different names each time so they GET dizzy just from listening to this psychiatric TOMBOLA of names, simply because these so called psychiatrists can't diagnose something so they keep changing their mind, and changing their mind, and changing their mind.

A medical TOMBOLA in a delusional way.

And I know, because after being a GP for many years, and now being in private practice I have had the pleasure of being called whatever people fancy. And the last works so much better than a real cure.

Amazing.

Why on earth do we bother to invent antibiotics, was a mistake actually, or insulin or asthma inhalers, if we know they are of no use at all.

As mind and body are one, I suggest, as recommended by our beloved friends, to treat any disease from no on, sorry that must be from now on, silly self thinking laptop, with CBT, and if you are really desperate, you will GET GET as well.

But only GET and CBT that is. So bin the medications, the painkillers, the sprays, the antibiotics, and what else there is in a pharmacy to treat diseases.

Waste of money. I love CBT, the almighty cure for delusionists, and you??

Mr Clarkson woke up this morning, having listened to a re-run of ME will be yours or so on Radio 4, and he wrote me this email, as he was delighted to see or hear in this case, that the psycho brigade have saved all the psychiatric patients, so they have changed over to neurology.

And he continued and said: “You may have noticed in recent years that the ME people are being stalked by a fleet of CBT blokeys. They look like psychiatrists with their verbal wishy washy talky talky and their magic wands. But they are not.

They are employed by the NHS to fill the gap left when PATIENTS with difficult diseases turn up and want to GET their lives back.

But as we all know, these so called helpers of Hippocrates, have abandoned the business of curing patients and have retreated to their desks for wishy washy talkie talkie nonsense, and writing article after article after article about absolutely nothing at all.

The remit of the CBT blokey is to get to the ME patients as fast as possible, ensure everyone is okay, as that is what they think ME means, clear the waiting room of ungrateful patients, and other debris, and get to their lunch or golf date as quickly as possible.

That sounds like a good idea, but unfortunately it’s a government scheme. So it’s all gone wrong.

The other day there was a small flog of ME folk stuck in the Magic KINGDOM of delusionism.

They were complaining of severe muscle pains, incredible brainfog, dizziness which I only get from sitting next to James May, when he tries to overtake a sleeping duck or snail, a few clumsy muscles, intolerance to noise, which I suffer from badly if I have to drive a normal car, and I think one of the patients had lost its job as well which gave him a headache.

No matter.

Everybody was in the right place as in in the MAGIC KINGDOM OF DELUSIONS.

All the patients looked well enough to be at work. Everybody was fine. At least that is what one of the CBT BLOKEYS shouted when I asked him what ME was.

You see, when I think of ME, I think of ME and big fast powerful cars. Preferably Italian stallions, with so much horsepower and seductiveness, that even at my age women fall for my incredible charm.

But no. The man with the magic wand in his hand decided that the patients who looked so well, were so severely ill, that all of them needed emergency CBT.

So, as you can imagine, the ME’ers were delighted.

When I got in the Lambo, and turned Radio Four on, I found out that on that one day, we had more patients with ME than with many other diseases and I therefore telephoned the NHS, which began by denying that ME existed at all.

Then it said that yes, two patients with ME had been spotted near the border of Scotland. And it stuck with this until I pointed out I had seen a dozen or two in a magical kingdom somewhere in a NICE neighborhood in London.

“Oh well,” said a spokeschairperson, “it might have been a few more than two but we wouldn’t know about that.”

What do they mean they wouldn’t know about that? Do these people have any idea how disabling ME can be? How can they think it’s so trivial that it doesn’t even exist?

The ME Association actually says that ME can have “serious effects on your family’s economy, your quality of life and [predictably] your environment”.

Damn right it can. Missed holidays. Ruined lives. Empty bank accounts. Broken marriages. Frayed tempers. And all of that is even before you get to the prognosis and uncertainty of getting your life back and doing the sporty things many ME people enjoyed before falling off the road to pensionhood.

Of course, it’s easy to see what’s happening. The CBT blokeys will have been told time and again that their stardom is the number one priority.

And that if they are dealing with a horrible illness, they should do everything in their power to ensure that CBT is the only available item on the menu.

In some cases, this means they won’t jump into a lake to save a young drowning boy with ME. In the KINGDOM, it means they won’t get out of their consultation rooms unless you have shut up, and are willing to undergo this utterly useless piece of so called treatment.

Even in the case of GET, also called Grannies Enjoyable Truffles, and you know what, I would always go for this kind of GET, as it is delicious and I know for a fact that I like it, as I have tried it, and so does my tummy.

But just read their reports. Every day a new one comes out, while six year olds can see that there is nothing to talkie talkie wishy washy treatments, other than a big fat cheque in the making.

It makes you wonder. Next time you need to see a shrink, could you escape up the embankment and across the fields with your ME? I think not. But without ME you could. I know for a fact as I have tried that.“