NHS (cuts pay for palace renovations)

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He sent out a text from his hospital bed: can you bring in my lap-top was meant to be read by visiting time at two o clock dead. And please send some biscuits in with Ted as I’m now nil by mouth but I need to be fed; and make sure the pigeons are out of the shed. Ignore all the mess – just mind where you tread.

When I see that trolley it fills me with dread, they won’t even give me a slice of dry bread. It’s doing my brain in…it feels just like lead. And in fact he had really done in his head by trying to jump from his hospital bed.

The alarms were flashing in blue and in red and patterns on screen were no longer a zed, but seemed to be straight lines pictured instead.

And his mobile vibrated just under his head with an incoming message that never got read cause he’d run out of credit and the signal was dead, but we’ll pass on the news to Joan and to Fred.

And the nurse had to text the reply instead: he’s taken a turn for the worse she said, I advise that the pigeons stay in the shed and cancel the biscuits: he’s already dead.

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