The irresponsible, shroud waving, downright lies that have been spewing from the BMA over the junior doctors dispute makes Brexiteer professional mentalists Arron Banks and Dominic Cummings seem like paragons of truth and gentlemanly behaviour. At last the mask has finally slipped. This has absolutely nothing to do with patient safety or tired doctors, but cash. The sticking point has now become how much they should be paid on a Saturday; at what time should unsociable hours pay begin. And let me remind you of what is on offer. An increase in basic pay of 13.5%. That the new contract permits doctors to work 71 hours a week rather than the 91now. That they can only be required to work 48 hours a week. In other words doctors are more likely to be tired and patients at risk under the present contract than the new.

Last night on the NOLAN show on 5 Live we asked for junior doctors to ring in. One did. He told us that the reason patient safety was at risk is because doctors are paid more in Australia and Scotland and will leave. Well son, get over it. A large percentage of doctors leave after their first two years. It has always been thus. Who else in the public services gets paid extra for weekend work? Certainly not the police, nurses, paramedics and firefighters. Oh, and dare I mention legal aid barristers? Like most of my colleagues I will be preparing my Monday trial. Shall I tell you how much per hour we will be paid for this unsocial work? Not a bloody penny. We have to do it for free. And we don’t complain about it. It is part of the job.

It appears that NHS negotiators where within a whisker of a deal until some doctor tweeted that he was looking after 100 cancer patients on his own and couldn’t cope. The internet went into a frenzy of indignation with 45,000 hits. Negotiations collapsed. Later it transpired that the claim was untrue as there were two senior doctors on call.

The BMA are a national disgrace. And they always have been. They have vilified every health minister from Nye Bevan onwards if their mouths are not filled with gold. Decent junior doctors have been seriously mislead and patients are suffering quite needlessly. Jeremy Hunt must stand firm. If these guys once again refuse to come to the negotiating table then the contract must be imposed. Giving in to the BMA would be a disaster.

And talking of disasters, not for the first time am I delighted that I don’ t live in London. It saves me the anguish of having to choose whom to vote for as Mayor. Clearly, I hope Zac wins simply because Khan is so bloody low grade cynical and has the public speaking ability of a dyspeptic Dalek. And Zac, tall, handsome but…..sorry I am dropping off even writing about him. I wish there could have been more of a choice between dull and hopeless. Tessa Jowell would have been rather good news. Sensible, able and with a great track record on the Olympics. Sadly, like murdered members of the politburo, she has been air brushed out of political history. London needs a leader with charisma, style and daring rather than Mogadon men. Oh, for the days of Steve Norris. He ran twice and would have been brilliant if the elections had not been during the Conservative Dark Ages when we were as fashionable as flairs and vaginal deodorant. Why on earth he was never rewarded with a place in the Lords is a total mystery to me.

Which reminds me that the 19th of February is the official start of the Conservative shooting season. It always amuses me how the Brexiteers spend most of their time screaming how awful the EU is and that unless we leave our shores will be teeming with migrants taking our jobs, Health Service and women. Yet as soon as Cameron repeats the warning from the mayor of Calais that the borders deal is not set in stone and reminds us of the Polish Prime Minister’s astute observation that, ‘if you are not at the table you are on the menu’, he is accused of disgraceful scaremongering.

So, soon after the Glorious Nineteenth IDS (Bon voyage), Villiers (the name rings a vague bell) Grayling (just fuck off) and a few no hopers whom the public have never heard of and will never again, will be finally allowed to let out the primal scream they have been withholding for so long. It will make them feel so much better. Like a damn good shit after a dodgy curry. Watch out for Priti Patel, the cover girl of the of the hard right who still believes in the death penalty. Can she be bribed? Mmm, we will see. But to honest, in the grand scheme of things what she does counts for diddly squat.

But a bit of ministerial bloodletting will free up opportunities for the ambitious and the loyal. And for the shits who did not behave too shitily. It is wonderful to see the Number 10 operation in full bribe mode. Nothing promised of course. Just little whispers in journalist’s ears about the big job that Boris might get. How Foxy could be back at the big table. How after the dust has settled, the sawdust scattered and the body parts given a dignified burial we will have a reconciliation reshuffle. Or perhaps a government of all the talons.