Checking the system for disease.

This post is a bit gruesome. Now you might wonder what our system of democracy has in common with my large bowel. Well, read on. First of all there's the dodgy history. On the one hand there's 'Cash for Questions', and a few other Parliamentarian's failings, while on the other hand, there was that nasty tumour in my rectum six years ago which required some skilled but fairly savage butchery on my person by Mr Hunt. Both systems need a periodic check-up to expose any new nasties that might have invaded and be festering, out of public view. I underwent a colonoscopy this afternoon.

As always, there's no point in inspecting anything, without clearing away all the debris that interferes with a careful look in every nook and cranny. That requires an effective laxative to clear the decks, so to speak. Two Picolax sachets made yesterday rather more high risk than I like. Probably the first time a colostomy cap has been blown off in the Cardiff Hylton! No-one was hurt. I suppose this can be looked at as the equivalent of full publication of politician's expenses. The Picolax effect was much more dramatic than I'd expected, since I'd only eaten a light supper on Tuesday, plus the colonic irrigation before going to bed should have shifted most of it. (I've been using CI for three years now to avoid having to wear a colostomy bag). Whatever, I survived the trauma, and arrived on time at the Shropshire Nuffield this afternoon to meet up with Mr Hunt once again. This time he was armed with a camera on the end of a long lead, rather than his scalpel.

Decided against the anaesthetic that I've always had injected into me in the past. In politics, its always a good policy to face up to the camera. It was a fascinating film, as the camera slithered its way through the bowel like a snake. The surgeon's job looked quite unscientific. Just like shoving a three foot long draining rod up a sewage pipe. Mr Hunt looked as if he was steering the thing with a playboy. The camera was about two foot in when he said "That little hole is your appendix". Carol, (I think. I was under pressure) one of the attending nurses squirted some water over it so that I could see the detail. And then he reached a dead end - where the large bowel runs into the small bowel. Spent five minutes looking for the entrance - not to enter, but just to show me what it looked like. He was getting quite carried away, as if he was taking a tutorial. If I hadn't said I wasn't that fussed to see it, he'd still be looking now. And as he withdrew the camera, I joined in the search for any polyps that might need burning off before they grow into something more dangerous. We didn't find any. And then it was all over - apart from the disconcerting noises that Hitler was renowned for at the dining table. Don't know what the Fuhrer's excuse was, but mine was that air had been pumped into my bowel to open the road for the snake. No anaesthetic was a bit uncomfortable, but then it was a film show not to be missed.

The good news for me is that nothing untoward was found. Lets hope that the media when its poking around in MP's expenses, due to be published shortly will find the same completely clean bill of health in our democratic system. I enjoyed the bowl of soup and poached eggs on toast that appeared at tea time. I hadn't eaten for almost two days. Felt like a reward. Its a great feeling when everything has been exposed to the closest scrutiny, and nothing untoward has been found. Just ask the Assembly Members.

UPDATE - I just had to add this. Best laugh I've had for ages. Read it and sympathise.