This might be thought to undermine the claim I made earlier, that London is totally unfazed by the so-called ‘terrorist’ attack on Westminster last week.
Passing through Gatwick Airport security yesterday, I was stopped on suspicion of carrying a dangerous weapon. It was after going through that glass x-ray bubble they have there. (They always remind me of the instantaneous transporters you find in Science Fiction, which scramble your molecules and then unscramble them on the surface of the planet: thus saving you an awful lot of time in airport terminals, but carrying the danger – if there is something in the bubble with you – that you might emerge with your body and a fly’s head.) They asked me to take off my shirt, while they all stood around at a respectful distance. It turned out that my corset, which I wear in order to keep my hernia squeezed in while I wait for my ‘non-urgent’ operation to stitch it up, had been mistaken by the instantaneous transporter for a bomb belt. Relief for them, and some embarrassment for me – my navel sticks out like a ripe plum. They all sniggered. (I imagined.)
And now it looks as though I’ll have to wear the corset for longer, with the NHS reneging – it was announced today – on its original promise to perform all non-urgent ops within 18 weeks. I thought I only had four weeks to go. Of our two current domestic crises, terrorism and the NHS, I’d like them to fix the latter first. Where’s that £350 million a week promised by the Brexiteers on the side of their ‘battlebus’, when we need it?