Text 4748, 69 rader
Skriven 2006-12-24 00:06:06 av Steve Asher (3:800/432.0)
Ärende: Allo Allo - Neuf Neuf Neuf
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* Copied (from: OZ_HUMOUR) by Steve Asher using timEd/2 1.10.y2k+.


Ban doctors who can't speak English

European doctors who speak poor English should be banned from
practising in Britain, a coroner said yesterday.

Dr Paul Knapman called for new laws after an inquest heard that a man
died as his French private doctor struggled to make himself understood
in a 10-minute call to the ambulance service. Dr Knapman, the
Westminster coroner, was told that the General Medical Council, the
doctors' watchdog, does not have the power to force doctors to take a
language test.

The inquest heard that Joao Paulo Lusakumunu Kiese, 38, a lay preacher
from Manor Park, east London, visited Dr Bernard Delvigne at his
private clinic in Wimpole Street, central London, with breathing
problems last March. The GP administered the steroid Kenacor to the
father of three. But the Angolan-born Mr Kiese collapsed.

The doctor gave him an injection and dialled 999 for an ambulance but
the call took 10 minutes as he struggled to make himself clear. Mr
Kiese died before reaching hospital.

[...]

At an earlier hearing, Dr Delvigne, in practise for 41 years, said
that he could understand English but had problems with some regional
accents. He said the telephone operator had been unnecessarily
pedantic. He also asked the court for an interpreter.

When asked why he needed one, he said: "I've studied English since I
was 10 but it was Shakespeare, not English like you speak.

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"I've studied English since I was 10 but it was Shakespeare..."


Ambo, ambo, wherefore art thou, ambo.

Alas, poor Joao Paulo, I knew him well.

To breathe, or not to breathe: that is the question.

The first thing we do, let's kill all the patients.

My patient 'e 'as a fever, longing still.

Now cracks a noble heart. good night sweet patient.

For in that sleep of death what ambulance may come.

I cannot tell what the dickens his problem is.

Whom I do treat and will do till his death.

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Devoutly to be wish'd. to die, to sleep;

Thy drugs are quick. thus with a kiss I die.


Cheers, Steve..

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 * Origin: Xaragmata / Adelaide SA telnet://xaragmata.thebbs.org (3:800/432)