Last updated 20:55, Thursday, 17 April 2008

I’VE UNCOVERED an exclusive story here; I have found out how the NHS is topping up its coffers.

I had to ring the Strategic Health Authority the other day.

I dialled the number I was given and was a bit startled when the phone was answered:

“Hello boys,” a voice purred, “You have reached an adult . . .”

I hung up at that point, naturally thinking I had the wrong number.

But then I thought maybe I hadn’t go the wrong number. Maybe, just maybe, the NHS was looking at a way to pay off its deficit in Cumbria.

If this was the case, your first instinct would be to be outraged.

Then I thought about it. It might cure loneliness and depression and the malfunctioning of certain parts of the anatomy.

Heck! It could probably raise money for the NHS and cut costs at the same time by reducing patient numbers.

Maybe it was fate that I rang the wrong number.

Maybe I had stumbled on a solution that will solve the country’s economic ills.

And why stop at adult calls? Why not have horoscope hot lines or horse racing tips?

The NHS could make a fortune if it followed the television reality programmes.

Perhaps we could have surgery or patient consultations televised.

Then we could all vote for our favourite disease, favourite surgeon, hunkiest doctor, cutest nurse etc.

It’s a possibility!

I was still musing and amusing myself with all these possibilities when I rang another NHS number -and came off the phone finding life not quite so funny.

A man told me he was sorry but nobody could help me because they were all on a break, and he asked if I could call back later.

I said I just wanted to confirm that I had the right number. Sorry, he couldn’t help me. They were on a break and would be back at 1pm.

I glanced at the clock and I told him it that it was already 1pm.

“It’s only just,” he replied, “Give them time.”

Frankly, I preferred the attitude of the woman on the other line who at least gave me a welcoming ‘hello’.

I was indeed surprised to learn that the NHS closes for lunch.

But back to the phones: on a day dominated by telephone calls that went wrong I give the prize to Defra - and the NHS should recoup some more money by giving them the bill for my blood pressure treatment.

I needed to get hold of the Defra press office because we had a member of its executive coming to Workington and I wanted information about the occasion.

I had mislaid their number so I went to their website. There was no number listed for the press office and I was told to phone a helpline; but there’s a misnomer if I ever heard one.

By the way, the helpline costs about 5p a minute, I was warned, so I would hate to have been a farmer asking for advice about foot and mouth.

Anyway, there was no option on that unhelpful line for press inquiries, so I then pressed a number for ‘publications’.

No. Not them either. But I was told that if I just held another minute I would be transferred to the helpline!

By this time I was using the telephone cord as a noose.

I did eventually get through to a perfectly pleasant operator who had to deal with this snarling customer.

I have often commented on how lax Britain’s biological border control is. Now I know why; Defra is too busy screening reporters to bother about new arrivals into the country.

“Can I get through to the press office, please?” I asked.

“Are you a member of the media?”

“Yes.”

“Which paper?”

“The Times & Star, I said.

“Where is that?” I was asked. “What is the nature of your call etc?”

By the end of the grilling I was convinced that blue tongue viruses and foot and mouth pests were trying to infiltrate Defra every day, posing as reporters.

Maybe if I gave Defra the NHS “adult” number, it would help everyone to chill a bit - and maybe the they might answer my questions!