There can be no finer example as to why the EU should not even be allowed to organise a piss up in a small town local brewery, let alone be put in charge of an annual Euro 130 billion budget covering 27 countries, than the completely illogical piece of crap that constitutes the European Health Insurance Card (EHIC).
So, we apparently have full freedom of movement of people, goods and criminals, throughout European Economic Area. And a human rights set-up that Mugabe might just struggle a bit with in the compliance department. And anti-discriminatory laws coming out of every known human orifice; and then some.
And … all the rest.
Now, quite reasonably, if I’m travelling somewhere in the European Economic Area (let’s say, Francais) and my leg drops off and I want some vaguely competent Frog surgeon to kindly stitch it back on for me, then in order for me to be treated in an equivalent fashion to a fully home-grown Frog, the powers that be want to have some degree of assurance that I am indeed a British Resident and entitled to a bit of free, or at least nearly free, leg stitching back on service. Perfectly reasonable.
Now, how could they work that out?
The easiest way would be to ask me to speak French. Given that 99.999967 % of Frogs can detect a Brit using this method within 0.03 seconds of the Brit opening their gob and even attempting “Excuse Moi …” (the rest is irrelevant), I would have thought this would be perfectly good enough for them to then just say:
“Yes sir, the leg stitching on department is down there, third door on the left”.
Apparently not. Apparently, they need some official piece of documentation that confirms that I am indeed British* and not some form of non-EU alien; like, say, an Australian, or an American, or somebody from Swaziland. Something, official and in writing that can identify me. Probably with a photograph.
What, a bit like my Passport? Like the EU bloody passport that whenever my arse leaves these shores I HAVE TO HAVE WITH ME. Otherwise my arse would not be able to venture out through the GB plc front gate; be it a front gate at an airport, ferry terminal or the tunnel or anywhere else.
Now on Planet - “let’s not piss about flushing the poor Greek’s last Drachmas down the drain” - Me, I think I might have just utilised a bit of this EXISTING EU marvellous high technology infrastructure in the “getting permission to have a leg stitched back on department”.
Clearly, the powers that be in the EU felt that the Greek economy wasn’t quite shagged enough - yet. And so. And so, they decided to ignore the existing EU organised identification infrastructure, and invent a new bit. Just to make absolutely sure the EU budget would be increased enough to completely f**k the Greeks, Irish Spanish, French and probably us as well.
And they came up with the EHIC.
Well actually, they didn’t. Not originally. Originally, way back whenever, they came up with the Form E111. Which, apparently, since early 2006 is no longer valid.
Now I had a form E111. It somehow came by fax. I can’t remember where from, or how. But I do have a vague recollection of being, just ever so slightly, underwhelmed at this highly official, very important (and presumably, very expensively generated) piece of documentation.
To say it looked like an official document that a 4 year old would knock up on their first day in an infant school reception class would be doing even the thickest, most crappiest 4 year old in the worst, most deprived, inner-city school reception class, a serious dis-service.
From recollection it was basically one side of A4 with “Form E111” at the top and then a few dozen words along the lines of:
“This is the shitty Form E111 that we have been working on for the last 17 ¾ months at a cost of Euro 116.3 million. Unfortunately we had completely forgotten about it until ½ hour before the final, final deadline, a week last Thursday, so we got Janice on the third floor to knock up this complete crock of shite very quickly while the rest of the project team cleared off down to the local exclusive Chateau for a 6 hour, Euro 77,000, piss up lunch; again”.
And it had a dotted space at the bottom for you to sign. And that was it.
Photograph? – nope.
Finger prints? – nope.
DNA sample? – nope.
Iris recognition- nope.
Official registry code or number? – Nope.
Watermark? – Nope.
Any form of anything that would give any clue that it was in any way an official document or of any value? – Nope.
ANYTHING that would make it even a little bit tricky for the thick four year old originators little 18 month old dyslexic sister to forge? – Nope.
And so, in 2006, even the idiots in Brussels woke up and decided to spend another Euro 116.3 million farting around to come up with another, slightly more complicated (expensive?) system.
And so the EHIC was born.
Have I got one? Funnily enough, no.
I think my wife and kids have one. But given that the cards need renewing every 45 seconds (keeps the expense up, emissions up and waste generation turning over nicely), even these may be out of date now.
Now, I might be wrong about this. And it’s so far not been put to the test. But I’m reasonably confident it would work.
You see I occasionally walk around the streets of Oxford, Reading, London, Leeds or sometimes other places scattered around the UK. And on the whole, I don’t see too many Frogs sat in the gutter bleeding to death with legs that need sewing back on, not being sewn back on. And, knowing how compliant most Frogs are in the “complying with Regulations” department, I suspect there may be quite a few rolling round these Islands who might not be fully in possession of a crappy EHIC. And some of the visiting Frogs and plenty of other Nationalities for that matter, may have utilised a bit of our leg sewing back on capabilities.
So, I think I’ll do the same. If I happen to be down in Bordeaux and my leg drops off, I’ll hop along to the local A&E and ask them nicely to sew it back on. And I think, even the Frogs, nasty and inconsiderate as they can be, probably will. I guess even they would twig that it wouldn’t be too good in the PR department if the streets of their major cities, in addition to being about three foot deep in dog shit, were also flowing with the blood of poor Brits who had one detached leg stuck under their arm. Holiday bookings for shitty Gites in the back of beyond might take a down turn.
Oh I know they might try and charge me. But then I’d have two options:
1. Pay them their full private rate - which in any event will probably be about one fifth of the special EU Brussels organised EHIC budget discount rate. And, I’m pretty sure even if it wasn’t cheaper, when I got back to the UK I’d be able to fill in a Form UK-F-167823465B “EU Refund for Sensible EU Citizen who Can’t Be Arsed to Fart around with EU made up crap”.
2. Hop out to the car and return with a nice heavy wheel brace to smash their skulls in. Politely, kindly, with real sentiment, consideration and feeling.
“Now, where’s the skull putting back together Department?”