A version of this article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 18th April 2015.
Inside
Harley Street: Monday, BBC
Two
Paul
Whitelaw
“Do
you ever get bored of the prostate, Roger?”
Vanessa
Engle has a knack for probing questions. An incisive student of
life's rich pageant, she's renowned for superior observational
documentaries on subjects such as feminism, socialism and orthodox
Jews. Exclusive subcultures and beleaguered ideologies are grist to
her mill.
It
was only a matter of time before she arrived in the privileged world
of Harley Street, that famed square mile in central London offering
private healthcare. With its winning combination of wry humour,
social critique and underlying compassion, Inside Harley Street
put her cheerfully impudent interviewing style to good use.
Inevitably,
her recurring focus was on money. Doctors wouldn't be drawn on how
much they earned; “a lot” seemed to cover it. As for their
upper-crust patients, one old dame claimed to have no idea of how
much she forked out. Another said money was no sacrifice, as she'd
never sacrifice anything for anyone. True blue Britain at its best.
A
commercial enterprise designed to generate revenue, the Harley Street
estate has been privately owned for over 300 years by one of
Britain's wealthiest broods, the Howard De Walden family. The company
stance on euthanasia is typical of its strict regulations. Even if it
were to become legal in the UK, it would never be allowed in Harley
Street. Not a good advert for the brand, claimed a De Walden
executive. Too much of a downer.
Their
preferred image is one of exclusive, personalised care. Engle caught
patients being warmly greeted by their GP's with “Hello darling!”
hugs and kisses, as they exchanged idle chit-chat about expensive
foreign holidays.
One
GP – typical in that he began his career in the NHS – spoke of
patients calling him at 2AM to have their blood pressure taken. “They
may be feeling anxious after returning from the casino,” he said,
semi-seriously. He then became defensive when Engle asked if this is
why he became a doctor. “Yes,” he frowned, “I became a doctor
to help people.”
I
don't doubt that. However, a colleague later admitted that the help
they provide isn't inherently 'better' than what you'd get for free
on the NHS.
Not
that all Harley Street patients are wealthy. Of particular interest
were the ordinary Arab patients whose treatment is part-funded by
their government, and the poor Russian child whose surgery was made
possible by a charity telethon back home.
Then
there was Derek, an Alzheimer's patient partaking in a free medical
trial subsidised by drug manufacturers. Derek might be given useless
placebos, but his wife reckoned it was worth the risk. Her quiet
desperation spoke volumes.
Engle is a heartfelt polemicist, and a blatantly left-leaning one at that. As such, she's an open-goal for those bizarrely paranoid, misguided souls who accuse the BBC of being a red-fingered hotbed of socialist dogma. The truth of the matter is, she's an anomaly, a throwback almost.
Right-wingers should be delighted that "lefty" documentary auteurs such as Engle barely exist in TV any more. I'm delighted that she does.
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