I Needed That Like A Hole In The Head. Despite Claims To The Contrary.

Oh, my God. Well, that gold star-induced sense of well-being was short-lived. I have just seen inside someone's head! Not telepathically, by virtue of The Twilight Zone theme, but literally! (This over-use of exclamation marks is perfectly justifiable, as will become only too clear.)

Honestly, if I'd wanted to be a brain surgeon, I'd have made far more effort to pass Biology when I was at school, instead of just concentrating during sex education. But does my disinterest stop Mr Lawson? No, it does not. I have never met such a nutter in my life. And that is really saying something.

Surgery's going quite well today, changes to Child Benefit and public sector pensions notwithstanding - until he comes in. He's never contacted us before, so this is the first time I've met him. I bloody well hope it's the last, as well.

"I want to talk to you about mental health," he says, as he sits down.

"Ah," says The Boss. "And what about mental health, exactly?"

"The professionals' unwillingness to use tried and tested methods to alleviate people's misery."

This sounds interesting. Maybe there's something in it for me? I could occasionally do with some cheering up, so I start paying attention.

"Did you have anything specific in mind?" I ask.

This proves to be absolutely the worst thing I could have said. Mr Lawson smiles - a bit like a crocodile, slowly and with definite menace - then he pulls off his hat, leans forward so that his head is almost touching my notepad, and says,

"This!"

"What?" I say. I can only see greying hair and a smattering of dandruff.

"This," he says again, parting his hair to reveal what looks like a small hole.

Now Andrew's the one who's interested, while I have lost all desire to find out anything more, thank you very much.

"Is that a hole?" he says.

Mr Lawson nods, which makes me flinch - Christ, bits of his brain will probably fly out and spatter me if he doesn't stop doing that. This is horrible.

"Have you had brain surgery, then?" says Andrew.

Honestly, can't he tell Mr Lawson to put his bloody hat back on, instead of encouraging him? I am starting to feel sick - the same as I did when I was made to dissect a cow's eyeball in class. (The damned thing definitely jumped when I cut through the optic nerve, no matter what Miss Rosen claimed at the time. It nearly gave me a heart attack.)

"In a manner of speaking," says Mr Lawson. "Ever heard of trepanning*?"

"Good God," says The Boss. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely,"  says Mr Lawson. "Can't recommend it highly enough."

So now I am supposed to write a letter on his behalf, asking why the NHS doesn't offer trepanning to those suffering from mental health conditions. Honestly, the world is going mad. Which is not a recommendation for Mr Lawson's bloody solution.

I'm starting to wonder if he didn't have completely the wrong idea about the purpose of a constituency surgery. I'm probably lucky my head's still hole-free, though I really can't vouch for Andrew's.


*Trepanning - explanation here. I think. I couldn't bear to read it all, and am definitely not recommending it.