Bless me, Father Hippocrates, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession. Between a scrotal exploration and a prostate resection, I realised my anger isn’t for my patients, but for the NHS, a system so efficient it can delay anything except your lunch break.

It’s strike-mas, so let’s unwrap a few gifts: the polished talking points handed down by right-wing pundits, and the far less convenient truth about why doctors have had enough.

1. The Hippocratic oath crowd

Dear reader,

I was on a picket line the other day, which is not where I imagined my medical career peaking, listening to Jeremy Vine do what Jeremy Vine does best, which is host a polite shouting match dressed up as debate. A rotating cast of the usual suspects took turns invoking the Hippocratic oath like it’s some kind of moral mic drop.

Small problem. We don’t actually take it.

If we did, modern medicine would look less like a hospital and more like a historical reenactment. No hip replacements. No draining abscesses. And if you needed an abortion, your best bet would be hope, prayer, or something you found on the darker corners of the internet.

Funny how the Hippocratic oath crowd remembers it just in time to scold doctors, and forgets it entirely when it comes to women making decisions about their own bodies. Selective morality is a hell of a drug.

What we actually sign up to is the Declaration of Geneva. You can read it yourself if you’re feeling ambitious. Nowhere in there does it say I owe the system my labour indefinitely, or that burnout is part of the job description.

And the “harm” argument. Always a crowd favourite.

Consultants cover. That’s the job. And when things get tight, derogations are put in place. No one’s being abandoned. The system bends, because if it didn’t, it would break.

Which, incidentally, is kind of the point.

So if you’d like to give the impression you read something other than the right-wing press, currently masquerading as very expensive toilet paper, it might be time to retire this particular jab at doctors.

“The why are they getting a pay rise?! I didn’t get one!” Crew

Dear reader,

This one’s my favourite. Not because it’s clever, but because it’s honest in a way you probably didn’t intend. It tells me exactly who you are, and not in a flattering light.

I know you didn’t get a pay rise. That’s rough. You probably deserved one. You should do something about it. Talk to your colleagues, sharpen your CV, make yourself just inconvenient enough that someone has to notice.

But watching someone else do exactly that and deciding to boo from the cheap seats? That’s not a solution. That’s just noise. Crab bucket mentality with a slightly moral tone. No one gets out, but at least you’re not alone at the bottom.

Meanwhile, the people actually holding the purse strings are doing just fine. Governments, corporations, the usual suspects. Their shortfall doesn’t vanish, it just gets redistributed to people like you and me.

So if your salary’s gone nowhere, be angry. You’ve earned that. Just aim it properly. Organise. Agitate. Start your own ballot.

Or keep shouting at doctors…

The “I paid for your medical degree you owe this country” crew

Dear reader,

These ones really do it for me. The double standards are almost impressive. Almost.

I took out a loan. Just like everyone else. Not a small one either. The kind that accrues interest like it’s personally offended. I’ll pay back about double by the time it’s done. So let’s stop pretending my training was some kind of charitable gift. It wasn’t. You can take that out of the equation.

As for my labour, I gave you the best years of my life. Weddings missed. Funerals missed. Relationships that didn’t quite survive the rota. A pandemic, because why not. Health, safety, somewhere along the way, both negotiable. All while paying back those loans.

So yes, I’ve paid my dues.

You don’t own my degree.

You don’t get to tell me what I do with it.

What I find interesting is the selective outrage. The Oxbridge graduate leaves Canary Wharf for Wall Street and earns numbers most people can’t even picture. Fine. The software engineer disappears into Google or Amazon to code for a small fortune. Also fine.They take their labour where it pays. Ambition.

I do the same, suddenly I’m a public asset.

That’s where it gets a bit ridiculous.

The “you knew what you were getting yourself into” crew

Dear reader,

These ones are the worst, largely because they don’t know what they’re talking about, and somehow that never slows them down.

When I started, there was no shortage of doctor’s jobs. Brexit hadn’t taken a swing at the economy yet, and interest rates were so punishing they needed emergency legislation just to keep things from falling over.

Then, quietly, the terms changed. The working week stretched. Out-of-hours pay shrank. The social contract was rewritten without much ceremony.

Apparently I was supposed to see that coming.

The government, as it turns out, is less a steady hand and more a magician. You look one way, something reassuring is happening. You look back, and your conditions have disappeared.

But of course, I should have known. At eighteen. Fresh out of school. Supposed to forecast economic policy, workforce planning, and the long-term reliability of political promises before picking a degree.

Completely reasonable.

A lot has changed since then. That’s the point. No one can predict the future, least of all an eighteen-year-old being told to “choose wisely” as if the rules won’t change halfway through the game.

Yet here we are, acting surprised.

Even with a new government, I don’t trust the promises. I’ve heard enough of those.

So let’s keep it simple.

Pay the 30%.The system won’t collapse. It never does. A happy doctor is better for you !